Ninety Percent

I am either the world’s worst do-it-yourself-er or the world’s best attention-deficit-disorder-er. (Five seconds after typing that sentence I decided I was both. At the same time. Feel free to be awed by my ability to multi-task.)

I begin a project with the best of intentions, get it nearly complete, like 90% complete, and then I walk away. It often takes me months to wrap up that last 10%, if I ever wrap it up.

Take my door painting project as an example. The exterior of the storm door is complete.

The interior of the storm door…

…not so much.

And though I’ve gotten every inch of the exterior part of the front door painted…

…I’ve only scraped the paint from four of the six panes of glass.

And the grody doorknobs that I removed while wishing the doorknob fairies would replace them…

Old Hardware

…didn’t get replaced. They did, however, get a makeover.

Well…most of them got a makeover.

See what I mean about 90%?

It’s a disease, I tell you. And apparently it’s a genetic one. My sister shares this affliction. It’s the only thing we have in common other than the two people who provided our DNA.

And even now as I write this post in full view of my unfinished door and unfinished hardware, I’m dreaming of cutting fabric for pillow covers. I’m itching to cut fabric for pillow covers. I’m actually trembling at the idea of cutting fabric for pillow covers.

Oh…sorry. It’s not fabric tremors. It’s lack of caffeine tremors. My coffee mug is on the kitchen counter, hot coffee in it, five pounds of sugar mixed in. But instead of adding the gallon of cream necessary for me to ingest it, I spied my camera and began taking pictures of my doors and knobs.

See? Ninety percent.

I’m a very ill woman. Very.

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Categories: Front Porch, Renovations

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