A Slow Miracle

This week my clinic is closed for renovations. We are actually just painting the therapy rooms and changing the decor, but renovations sound much more sophisticated. I am utterly spent.

Today is the third day in a row that has consisted of 10 hours of painting, patching holes in the walls, and moving furniture around. The paint in the first room came out absolutely shocking. It was to have been "Deep Slice" and instead came out a most shocking yellowy-mustard color. The entire room, all four walls are enough to knock your eyes out. Up goes a quilt on the wall in the morning--hopefully that will cover enough so it will simply look cheery instead of blaring yellow.
Then we have the lovely "Fig" dark brown walled cavernous room. It is now a lovely looking, intimate space. Not much can be done with the horrible pale pink blinds over the one-way mirror, but I'll make curtains to cover them. The "Arid Sand" room is lovely. But the "New Khaki" is absolutely bilious. Against the pink blinds it is more than I can bear.

Tomorrow I will start in on the miles of sheer (and otherwise) curtains that need to be made for windows that go from floor to ceiling. Hopefully, the lobby wallpaper will be completely removed by my energetic and earnest student before he gives out.

The title of this post refers to my other helper. I've never seen anyone move so slowly in all my life. It is truly miraculous. If he were going any slower, he would be moving backward. Inertia was named after him.

So now you know where I've been and what I've been doing. More to follow after I come up for air on the weekend.