Fascia board meet Tracy. Tracy meet Fascia board.
Fascia board I hate you!
My father has been doing a lot of work on my grandfather’s house. The previous owner was an older woman on a limited income and neglected many things. And so, my father is dismantling the house little by little and rebuilding it—ok, so that may be a wee bit of dramatization, but only a little bit. Since I’ve been unemployed, and he would like to finish before the snow falls, he has enlisted my help. And, oh-my-gawd-my-neck-hurts, what a help I’ve been. Ok, so maybe not that big of a help, but I have repainted (well primed) the fascia board on over half the house.
Only painting justifies pink shorts with a green tank top…we’ll call that my painting outfit.
Painting the fascia board, for lack of a better word, sucked.
(I was not saying cheese, I was saying Ooooowwww….)
The list of the other cores that await is much more fun. There’s some installing of insulation (ok not that much fun) and, the real fun, the ripping off of cedar shake…but I think it’s supposed to rain tomorrow. So maybe I’ll paint our as-of-yet unpainted spare room in my house, or maybe I’ll vacuum, or do dishes, or some other fun shiza such as that. Jealous are you? I thought so.
Prior to that little burst of fun…was this explosion of excitement.
Yay! Homegrown, canned tomatoes. Not from my garden because I didn’t plant that many. But they are from my uncles’ and Pepere’s garden, so it’s almost like being from my garden. Boy were my hands pruned by the end of the skinning and cutting process, and my nails are now a slightly orange hue.
I also have an interview with an employment agency on Thursday and have been in contact with a headhunter. Yay! That’s what we call progress.
I have a confession to make. All you employed, hard-working people are going to be a bit astonished by my next statement. I was actually kind of bummed that yesterday was a Federal Holiday. I know, I know. Don’t shoot me. Until last Monday I also was excited about Labor Day coming up. But a Federal Holiday meant that no one was going to contact me about a job and it was just one more day to sit around. Although, Marc was home. And we left the house. So it turned out ok. I promise I’ll look forward to the next holiday—we’ll be heading to Disney then. 
The unemployed Tracy is a socialized, occupied, slightly-optimistic-woman today. And boy do I think I’ll get a good night’s sleep for a change.
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