I have had a huge day of painting. And I've come to the conclusion that there comes a times when you're too old to be climbing up and down ladders all day lugging paint tins. And I think I've just about reached that age. My back is KILLING me. But I must get finished and get back into my room. I can't sleep in the lounge room for much longer. Its like being in bloody Pitt street. (Pitt Street being one of the main streets in Sydney).
My night last night went like this.
Went to bed at 10.30pm as usual.
11.00pm – Lloyd drops by to tell me he's going out
11.30pm – Lizzies boyfriend turns up
12am – Lizzies friends turn up – (note to self – why are three 16 year old girls roaming the streets at midnight)
1.30am – Lloyd arrives home. Tells me nothing much was going on and Kimba will be home soon. Trashy and drunk.
2.30am Kimba arrives home. Trashy and drunk.
The thing about Kimba is that she doesn't come home, sneak into bed and go to sleep. She comes home, jumps on me in bed and asks me what I'm doing, then has a shower and cooks herself a feed. Then she climbs into my bed and tells me about her night. What she danced to, who she has a crush on and some guy she had meaningful eye contact with across the pub dance floor. (She is at a 21st tonight and hopes to – break the ice – with him). She then spent about an hour telling me every five minutes that Lizzies Boy was up in Lizzies bed – WITHOUT HIS SHIRT ON.
4am – Lizzies boyfriend sneaks out.
7am – WHAT THE FUCK – is that a loudspeaker? We live four doors away from the showground and I guess there were some horsey fun and games going on today that required a man on a loudspeaker instructing people. Those horsey types sure do get up early.
So today I finished all the undercoating and I'm starting the topcoat in the morning. The ceiling and three walls will be painted in the colour First Kiss. Which tells you absolutely nothing about what colour it will actually be. So you can either wait for photos or have a mad guess.
I was laying in bed at 5am this morning and thought to myself – holy crap – I think I'm a full blown insomniac.
Note to self – tell Lizzie that once it hits 4am her boy may as well stay the night.
Note to self – buy bourbon for daz so I can tell him that lizzies boy will be sleeping over from now on.