There comes a point when I just cannot clean any more. Not because I am finished, but because I simply cannot spend one more day cleaning up a mess that should not have been made in the first place.* So much repetitive cleaning means that nothing else is getting done, which feels like a complete stall of all progress. Things needed to change, so I took the most rational step I could think of: I gave up the cleaning, hung the rags out to dry, washed out the bucket and put it away. Shelving those bottles of Murphy's Oil Soap, Pine Sol, and Old English felt like a small victory in a week's worth of defeat.
And then I started attacking the first floor half bath. It wasn't quite the glorious feeling of ripping out the second floor bathtub doors using only a box cutter and a putty knife (did I not mention that escapade? Oh, it was fantastic!), but it saved my quickly sinking morale, for sure. I patched holes, rolled a bold blue paint over the country-gone-wrong sponge painting we had been left with, and suddenly the powder room went from an eyesore to something so much more us. It is still a work in progress; today I procured a new mirror and ripped out the old medicine cabinet, which required another round of spackle. Tomorrow I hope to finish the second coat of paint and hang up the window treatment. We still need some artwork for the wall opposite the vanity, either a small series or one large piece, but it is coming along and progress feels oh-so-good!
*For those keeping track, we are waiting to receive a check for nearly $700 from the duct cleaning company to cover the cleaning costs. Ridiculous that I had to fight for it, but I am proud that I didn't back down.
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