Phil’s chemical prostration continued through today, at least as bad as yesterday. How frustrating for him and us!
Jonelle and I had a productive day, though. We had gone to bed waiting on the paint to dry. The second stage of the Annie Sloan's Chalk Paint process is to put on a wax that will bind to the paint and make it durable (or something like that). Another thing the salespeople didn't mention is that the paint is almost smell-free, but the wax is quite toxic-smelling. Blah.
Bt Jonelle waxed the dresser first thing. Then put on the new handles. It looks fabulous, and makes me smile every time I look at it.
I also have a garage sale bookcase that has been useful, though ugly.
Because we had to mix two colors, Jonelle used the straight navy to paint the bookcase. It was tough to paint in the creases, but after two coats of paint and the wax, it looks entirely different. I love it now!
I enjoyed putting all Phil’s work clothes away. I almost cried to Jonelle that Phil had so few clothes that were fit to be seen in public. She said, “But he’s a farmer. He can wear work clothes that get worn out.” This was a good thought, a continuation of the conversation we had begun earlier in the week. I can think of myself as a person who lives in the country. I can wear clothes I like and change into work clothes if I head out to garden or help Phil. But I don’t have to live in work clothes that are the wrong color or make me feel ugly. I’ll keep a few less-than-stellar things for my work times, but can choose to dress nicely the rest of the time. (Also, I then found bags of professional clothes that Phil had worn when he worked in an office, so he actually has tons of clothes fit to be seen in public; they just haven't seen the light of day in a few years.)
I was surprised by how the boys eagerly came to try on clothes. Abraham was happy to find three hoodies that fit, and Joe came and wanted to find hoodies, too. I don’t think I was happy to try on clothes when I was their age.
The most amazing moment of the day was when we headed up to move the wardrobe. If we could move the wardrobe, we could finish putting the boys’ clothes away. Jonelle and I scooted the wardrobe over to the door, then tipped it carefully out. “It doesn’t weigh that much!” she said hopefully, to which I replied, “It’s all relative.” But when we actually pulled it out of the door, it was much heavier than we expected.
Just as we were standing, confounded and unsure of what to do next, we heard a yell: “Lykoshes!”
Doug and Denise Bush “happened” to stop by at that precise second. Doug came running when he saw us, and took over the wardrobe moving process, until it was in place. Phew! I think Jonelle and I might have died if we had tried to do that on our own. Such a gracious provision of the Lord, when Phil was completely unable to help.
Jonelle vacuumed the construction debris, thought about nice groupings of wall decorations, and spent an hour or so with me going through a mass of accumulated life-debris (what my mother would call "rummel," which, I have heard, means "sand" in Arabic). I held the sleeping baby and she put things in boxes or give away bag or with like items until the mass appeared more manageable.
After I had managed all day on about four hours of sleep, we went to bed early.
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