
The thick dust that carpeted the floor felt like hotel grade cotton when I lay on it carelessly. It was the second day of painting our newly rented condo unit, and much like the afternoon before, I was alone tackling the gallons of colors. I stared at the ceiling and the bright lime wall and tried to feel my arms. Two straight days of cleaning up and painting reminded me --- by aching severely --- that I actually had muscles in my arms. The two men whom I share the unit with were out of town by choice, and the two women were stuck at work. I was --- to sugarcoat it --- pissed. Why am I … [Read more...]











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