You know how it feels when you’re so dog-tired you’re almost delusional?

I SURE DO.  Like last Saturday, when my husband and I finished installing the very last of our attic flooring.  We started @ 8am, and after 10 hours of hard labor we delivered a bouncing baby floor!  But instead of smoking cigars, I had to go mow the church lawn around the corner.  WHY?  Because I’m insane I gave my word and my word is BOND.  So I went to mow, even though I was at near-zombie state, and I mowed for roughly 20 minutes until the mower ran out of gas.  I went to get the gas can out of the locked church garage using the key they’d given me, but the key wouldn’t work.  So instead of sipping champagne and cheering my husband for all of our hard work, I found myself taking a walk home again to get the gas can.  After returning to the church, refueling the mower, and powering through another 45 unfunfilled minutes of work, I was done.  AMEN.  Then I walked home again.  To a house filled with kids.  I love a good party, but hosting a sleepover for a team’s worth of teenagers after installing flooring for 10 hours and then mowing a church lawn was a little much.

My husband, though greatly fatigued from our workday, had taken pity on me and walked down to meet me on my way home to bring me a can of seltzer.  God Bless Him.  I got home just shy of seizure and sat down to ponder my existence.  I knew my husband was too tired to rub my feet.  (I’d already asked.)  So as soon as my butt touched chair, I began to wonder aloud if I could place an ad on Craigslist to find someone else to rub my feet.  Figuring only weirdos would respond to such a request, I wondered whether they’d be willing to rate themselves on a weirdness scale from one to ten.  10 being (say) skin-wearers, and 1 or 2 mild foot fetish-ists.  Maybe 1s like to touch feet, 2s like to smell them?  I dunno, something along those lines, just so I could vet potential candidates before they showed up at my house.  Full of kids.  But I was JUST TOO TIRED TO RISK IT.  Much too tired, actually, to place any ad on craigslist.  At least until the next morning.

Because after a good night’s sleep, I woke to this outside my bedroom window.

Yep.  A whole lotta shit.  Ever since we bought this house I feel like I’ve been reliving scenes from Groundhog Day.  But instead of Bill Murray and Andie McDowell playing the leads it’s me and my husband tossing wood from a 3rd floor window.  And it always ends the same.  WHERE’S IT GONNA GO?  How to dispose of sky high piles of wood littering the yard like sand dunes at the beach.  And since this time we didn’t have a jumbo-sized dumpster to haul it away, we really did use Craigslist.  After artfully arranging the 2 x 6s, 2 x 8s, and assorted shiplap on boards, we put up our free listing and BOOM!  SO LONG LUMBER.

The rest of the crap?  The plywood got stacked for another project (or future dumpster), the insulation panels got bundled together, and along with the rest of the stuff- CURB CITY BABY!  This is what makes living in Maine such a dream.  Not just the beautiful summers, the coastal breezes, the smell of the ocean, but the fact that you can put a whole heaping helping of crap on the curb and within seconds it’ll be gone.  I never thought I’d write this, but I love pickup driving Mainers who want my junk.

Now that I’ve related my tale of exhaustion, I bet you’re all wondering what the attic looks like.  Ta-DAHHH!  And now. It’s time for a break.