Home Improvement is For the Healthy, the Wealthy, or the Just Plain Stubborn

     Last year I came up with the brilliant idea that I was going to slowly clean out and up the house and begin fixing it up.  Nothing has really been done around here for the better part of a decade, except the year I did some landscaping out front about 3 years ago, which was quickly trashed within 2 months.  So I made a list of each room and a list of everything that needed to be done in each room.  For the most part, it wasn't anything major like demolition, plumbing, electrical, etc., but it was still a lot of work.  Fix a few holes in walls, new carpeting, new paint in some rooms, new furniture/fixtures, etc.  But there wasn't/isn't any hurry to get anything done.  I figured a half hour here and there when I felt up to it would be fine.  It would keep me busy, give me a sense of accomplishment, the house would look a million times better, there would be less to keep clean and maintain, and I know my mother would also be much happier because she would stop feeling like we were "that house" in the neighborhood.
       So I started in the back storage room.  Most of the large appliances in the kitchen had to go back there along with a baker's rack that was in my office (I learned the hard way that they don't make good book cases), plus once the holes in the wall were fixed and the new carpet was put in, where I live downstairs would be much warmer since all the drafts would be fixed.  Six months later, about 15 or so contractor bags full of trash, 25+ boxes of stuff for donation, I finished the room.  I learned that power tools are something that are now extremely difficult to use, just how my limits have really changed (re: shortened), and patience.  Not to mention it's incredible just how much crap can be stuffed into such a small room.
     Then it was time for spring cleaning and warm weather, which meant time to start outside.  Another test in patience, since the hedges and bushes hadn't been trimmed in about a decade, so it's going to take years to get them back into shape.  In just under 3 months, I finished (almost--I still have transplanting to do) the front and one side of the yard.  It's going to take forever to do the entire yard, considering how long it's been neglected plus the upkeep on what's been done.
       So my grandmother calls and wants her birthday party/family reunion at the house this year and it's 3 months or so away.  I just finished outside, but I hadn't touched the kitchen or living room.  The kitchen only needs a bit of wall repair and touch up paint, but the living room… the living room needs to be repainted and completely redone.  We had just received a new sofa and loveseat (matching!) in January to replace what was left of our 25+ year old sofa bed and the old love seat went into my office, since even at 20 years old, it's still in pretty good shape. But the recliner.  The recliner is 30+ years old, filthy (but could have been cleaned) and very, very broken.  Beyond the point of repair.  Luckily, a friend of mine was giving away a beautiful antique wingback chair and ottoman.  So the furniture is taken care of.  It takes all of 5 minutes to choose paint colours (even for other projects down the line.)  The holes get fixed, but take longer than expected because now if it's not raining, it's extremely humid.  I finally finish the kitchen (except fixing the chairs) and it's time for the living room…
   But hold on, a friend is moving and is offering a free bookcase!  Which means my office has to be done first before the book case gets put in, since it's easier.  It also means the old Ikea entertainment center in my office needs to be cut up and taken out of there.  I want to keep the small book cases on the side because I have that many books.  So cleaning off my desk, the entertainment center, cutting the old carpet in pieces to get it out, bleaching the floor, buy the new carpet, install it (which was much bigger than labeled, of course), get the book case in, my new heavy bag is installed, my fish tank that's been empty and dead for about 4 years cleaned up and filled, books are put away…. I'm hurting, but it looks awesome.
   Back to the living room.  It's now 2 weeks until the party.  Turns out that cheaper "paint and primer" the woman at Home Depot talked me into buying (Behr Premium) is either horrible, or a bad batch because the ceiling--a dingy light blue being painted off white--now requires 2 coats of paint.  My back is screaming, my shoulder is screaming, everything hurts like hell, and I now have to not only edge/cut the ceiling, but put a second coat on it.  And I'm worrying about the walls, in which are the same dingy blue, except the dark blue accent wall.  But they're being painted light green and it was recommended I buy the Behr Ultra.  And I'm thinking I can't paint 2 coats on the walls!  And the trim… the trim is supposed to be the ceiling colour.   But I bought 2 gallons because the 2nd gallon of the off white was supposed to be used for another project. And I just used an entire gallon on the ceiling.
       Did I mention there's also cleaning all the knick knacks, scrubbing the floors, conditioning the wood, painting shelves, outlet covers, cleaning windows… the list goes on.   It felt like there was never an end to it all.  This was supposed to be something that was done over months to years, not weeks.
     Everything hurts.  I'm covered in bruises.  From where, I have no idea.  My joints are swollen.  Prednisone did nothing.  I'm afraid of what my labs are going to show next week from all of this.  Everything looks great and my grandmother had a great time, but I know I pushed myself way too far because I'm just too damn stubborn.

So it's been quite awhile.  I can't believe two years have passed since I found out my doctors screwed up for 10 years and I've had autoimmune issues this entire time.  I'm on even higher doses of Imuran, switched to Orencia because Dr. House was wrong--sometimes it IS Lupus--diet changes, more pills (I can't even wrap my head around how many pills I have to take in a day, even though more than half are supplements), new diagnoses like vertigo, degenerative disk disease, herniated disks, spinal compression fractures, vertigo, and more questions than answers as symptoms reappear, worsen, one problem is taken care of only to be replaced by another complication.  I want to return to school.  Or work.  Or something.
     But it's not all bad news.  At least there's Sundays.  When I'm feeling up to it I go with my dad to help with the rebuilding of a 1968 Firebird.  I still remember being a little girl helping him rebuild my uncle's old Jaguar.  It's where and how I learned about cars--and how to drown misbehaving dolls in used oil.  Before that was an old Mustang, but the only thing I really remember was learning the proper use of the word "fuck" while pissed off.  We worked together to rebuild the engine in my first car to get it on the road.  It was always kind of our thing.  So this is bittersweet.  I get to spend time with my dad and get to work on cars again, even if it's an hour or two.  It does make me miss working in the shop, though.  I miss the work.  The challenge.  How every day was different.
       Every time I think I have everything figured out, accepted things for what they are, think everything is finally under control, know what's going on, I realize I don't have a damn clue.  Eventually.