White Room = Not so Sad Face

My room is officially white. Well, most of it anyhow. I unfortunately had to do two coats (groan) but ran out of paint for the final half of the last wall. Isn't that just a kick in the pants. So tonight I'll trudge over to Home Depot and buy a quart of paint, then retire my paintbrush and roller for several years.

This morning my body is thoroughly unhappy with me. In hindsight, it probably was not the best idea to go swimming the day before I painted. My shoulders were already going "WHAT? We had a deal. Go back and sit on the couch with a slice of pizza." Add to that four hours of painting and my body is in full "I HATE YOU" mode. Feels kind of good. I'm expecting bulging muscles to pop out at any moment, incredible hulk style.

I also learned that it is incredibly weird to sleep with your bed in the center of a room. I felt like at any moment I could fall off the top of my bed, or at least lose a pillow. Needless to say, it was another restless night's sleep.

I'm also slowly becoming nocturnal while at the same time my workdays are starting earlier. Those of you who know me, know that I don't do well with very little sleep. And for me, very little sleep is pretty much anything under 8 hours. At this rate, by the time I finally move, I'll be a shell of my former self, sleep deprived with a stomach full of ulcers.

Even though the painting is not fully complete, it was almost therapeutic to paint over the colors I've loved for the past two years. I have not had too many bad times here in DC, but those that I did have felt like they were being erased last night with each roller brush stroke. It was much less sad than I was expecting and this morning, it really felt more like a fresh start. I like who I am and don't feel the need to run away from my life in DC, but there is something nice about moving to a new city where no one knows me.