It's a foggy, drizzly morning, and I just don't want to get started with my day. Steve is sleeping in, so I have a few minutes to catch up on my blog.
I still feel terrible. There seems to be no proper diagnosis, thus no proper treatment.
I've had a cold, on top of the upper respiratory infection that's been plauging me for the last year, and I sound like a cross between a fog horn and a demented drag queen. No one wants to talk to me on the phone, as they can hardly understand me. They say my throat sounds makes their throat hurt.
Creekside is coming along, but very slowly. Stucco is tired of working on that old house, and about everyone else is, too. Janie keeps up spirits with her hard work and the fact that she often brings home-cooked food for everyone.
We re-painted the upstairs sun room last evening, as the former nice paint job had become a little care worn. We plan to start the wall paper in there today. It's a chair rail that looks like a picket fence.
Steve worked on the overhead lights in the downstairs sun room last night.
He liked my idea of putting remnants of padded linoleum on the kitchen floor to keep down drafts until we finish the floor in there. It makes quite a difference.
Stucco and Guy (a new boy working for us) carried a lot of stuff out to the plastic house yesterday. It gives us a lot of room to work in the house without having to move stuff all the time.
More later.
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