Delays, delays

Why does everything take longer than you think it will?

Over the weekend, my project was to finish painting the downstairs guest suite, and sew the tablecloth for the kitchen down there. Every simple facet of that turned into a convoluted mess. For example, I unscrewed the little clamps that secure the frameless bathroom mirror to the wall, and *wham!* The bathroom mirror slid with a thud onto the counter because no one had glued it to the wall. I think I speak for everyone when I say, "What the?!" Luckily, it didn't break, but I had to remove all the light bulbs on the side lights to lift the mirror out.

Then, in the hallway, another strange full-length mirror was attached to the wall. I could tell this one wasn't glued, which was a good thing in this case. I unscrewed it, wondering why anyone would put a mirror in such a weird location, and as I lifted it away from the wall, I realized why: it was covering a huge hole in the drywall. So painting the hall got put on hold in order to patch the drywall. I'll be sanding the joint compound down and texturing it tonight. Paint on Tuesday, maybe.

Now let's talk tablecloths. Flat, rectangular swaths of fabric that require little construction. Right? Wrong. Oh so very wrong. After two weeks of trial and error (don't ask — my brain just could not figure anything out), two weeks of sewing the wrong sides together, unpicking, mis-cutting, going back to the fabric store for more supplies, running out of thread, et cetera, I finally — finally! — finished the damn thing yesterday. And you know what? It looks as mundane and pointless as any tablecloth ever does. All that work, so people can spill mac & cheese on it. Why do I do it to myself?

Sometimes I feel like I'm making major strides of progress. Other times I feel like an ant, running frantically around in directionless circles.