I have this weird thing about me. I am very patient about things. Until I can see the end in sight. I get antsy. I want it over. Examples: When I run, I can go at a nice comfortable pace that works for pushing myself but not killing myself but when I get to the end of a run, I crank it up. When hubby and I would drive across the country when we were younger, I was totally patient with my drives-like-a-grandma hubby, even through Kansas. But get us to within an hour of our destination and I would turn into a crazed lady doing the whole looking over his shoulder at how “fast” he was going to get him to realize that I wanted him to step on it a little.

So here we are. The 3rd bedroom is almost done. The trim is in, primed, painted. The walls have their primer and first coat of paint. One more coat of paint to go. Really, I feel like that was 3 weeks ago I said the same thing. Maybe Bug and Monkey want to help me paint today. Just kidding. I don’t paint. They can do it themselves.

Everytime I think that it’s going to be done today, something else comes up. Now I have to admit I am actually quite impressed that hubby is doing this room totally right, with every last detail. It’s more than can be said for the rest of the house where every single room has something left unfinished. Like the living room. I still don’t know why and I don’t know I should bother asking WHY did he leave two peices of door trim unpainted? Just because, I suppose. This room, he’s doing right. When it’s done, it’ll be DONE. Which is nice. But taking forever!!!!

I was feeling all impatient this week about everything. I was wishing things were more finished. Then I went to put up the tree. I set it up in front of a window that didn’t exist last year in our living room that was home to two beds, avocado linoleum tile, fake wood paneling and no electricity on one side of the room. I block a lot of that stuff out. But as I went to put the lights on the tree, I remembered that when I put the tree up last year, I had to get an extension cord and run it across the room because there was no power over there. This year, I popped that tree up in front of a window, plugged the lights into the outlet right next to it, sat down on my couch, not a bed in sight. And I reminded myself to be happy with how far we’ve come this year. It’s not perfection. Nothing I do is. But it’s nice. The bedroom will be done soon and I’ll have forgotten all about the days that hubby and my dad and a friend had pulled off the walls, torn down the studs to put the new walls in and sat in the empty room with a concrete slab and a peice of lumber holding up the roof, and sat eating pizza and drinking beer. I have GOT to find that picture.