The Money Pit

Ah …  D.P. … so we meet again …

Once more you come storming into my life, monopolize my time, rob me of my senses, ravage my body and ruthlessly leave me weak, weepy and exhausted. Why do I let you do this to me, D.P.?

It’s always the same with you. I know you intimately, yet every time I hope for more. Each time I think, “I’ll do things differently this time. I’ll plan ahead. I’ll protect myself. I won’t let D.P. get the best of me. I won’t succumb.”

But you know I’ll give in, don’t you? You know I can’t help myself. You know it’s all or nothing with me. You know I’ll give you everything I have, holding nothing back, hoping against all reason that we’ll make it this time.

If only we could take things more slowly. If we could just hold back a little and not get so carried away. I lose myself with you and I forget who I am. When you finally leave me, I feel broken, disillusioned.

Project: Take dining room from man-cave to marvelous by sanding down to the beautiful, original worm-wood. The gorgeous crown and dark trim will stand out beautifully against the blonde wood.

Oh, DIY Project … are we destined for nothing but a life of anguish and tumult?

As I surveyed the dining room paneling on Friday afternoon, I was sure I could knock out what was left of the sanding in a weekend. I even thought I might manage it in a single day. Granted, several glasses of wine with friends topped off with a VERY late-night dip in the hot tub was NOT the best way to approach a weekend of work.

But my biggest problem is that I severely underestimate how much time a project will take, and then I kill myself trying to push through and get it done. Rather than sand for a couple hours, do something else and go back to it, I feel like I have to sand until my arms fall off and I can no longer see straight.

After too little sleep on Friday, followed by too much sanding on Saturday, I slept for 12 hours straight, missing church choir in the process. (Sorry, Rick!!) Did I learn my lesson? No! I crawled out of bed, gulped down a cup of coffee and a handful of Aleve, and went right back to sanding until I couldn’t move my arms. And I’m still not finished. And I’m crippled.

Thank goodness for my real job or I’d be back in that #$@% dining room, sander in hand, convinced that I can definitely get it done today, no problem.

I wonder if there is a 12-step program for DIY.