In Which We Run Out of Primer

Although I went to bed around 9:30 last night and woke up just before 9am, I don't think I am very well rested these days. An hour up around midnight, an hour up around 4am, other little wakings to say something to Phil when he came to bed, or to help Joe when he needed help getting back in his sleeping bag, or to make sure that Caleb burped well and had a clean diaper. I feel discombobulated, and can't yet imagine having a workable routine.

I went to help vacuum and had about five minutes of effort before Caleb woke up. I tried to pay my credit card bill and, due to updates in the system, couldn't get that done, even after an hour of trying various passwords and three (yes, three!) calls to the company. Fie on updates, I say! Fie! (My favorite moment in call number two was this interaction. "What was your last large purchase?" "Well, I spent a good bit at Whole Foods yesterday," and I gave the rough total, within a few dollars. "I'm sorry, but I need the transaction number." "Um, that's a bit hard for me to provide, since I can't access my account online. Let me see if I can find the receipt." And I actually found it, curled on the floor under the coffee table, surrounded by piles and piles. Not that it did any good.)

I am determined to spend some time fixing books in the near future, so I ordered from Vernon's Library Supplies. Another shelf gave way on one of our bookcases, disgorging probably sixty paperbacks onto the floor. Those can join their comrades in floor dwelling: hundreds of magazines, dozens more books, and, certainly, various plastic toys. So I spent time looking at new bookcases, as ours has doubled as ladder for four years (and ever heavier boys), and it is on its last legs.

Phil had a similar day. He did a final parge-coat over the windows first thing. He checked the copper line for leaks, and cold water is leak free, while hot water has at least one leak somewhere. (Checking for leaks was tricky. Joe had played with the hot and cold taps at one point, and apparently left them open. Those taps were covered in preparation for painting, so poor Phil was quite horrified by how leaky his line was until Isaiah figured it out.)

Then Phil ran to the hardware store. Poor Isaiah's new flip-flops were too small (did I mention that Abraham had a flip-flop break one day, and two days later Isaiah had a flip-flop break? I might have). Happily, the store had both long screws and a mop, so I could clean the drywall on the rest of the ceiling.

I think Phil painted then, but the five gallons of primer ran out before he was halfway done. So he and the older two boys took a three and a half hour trip to town to buy more primer and, for good measure, some extra paint, too, just in case.

So I know this was a day of forward progress, even though it doesn't feel like it much.