This was supposed to be an ugly picture of me. It was taken at 8:45 pm. After painting, soccer, crying, sweating, changing clothes multiple times, a doctor's appointment, cleaning things, possibly more crying...but...apparently, Instagram's filters worked their magic and made me look kinda edgy-cool. I'll take it.

But, really, today did get pretty ugly.

My poor husband made the mistake of commenting on my painting. Now...while you have been reading, dear readers, and I have been painting/cleaning, he has largely been either at work or handling all the paperwork/scheduling of contractors.

And in the meantime...

Our windows and doors order has been delayed...they still aren't here....

And...it rained in our house for a week while they tried to figure out all the plumbing problems...

And...our homeowner's policy was cancelled and we had to find a way to paint the entire exterior of the house before the winter...

And...I haven't really talked to any grown ups all summer...

And...I need to provide a loving environment for my kids so they don't go insane like the Kilz breathing woman who resides with them currently....

And...groceries....

And school starts in a week...

So Bill makes a comment and... I. Lose. My. Shit. I mean I lose it, folks. There were f-bombs. I nearly threw paint, but friends, I worked too hard, so it was more like emphatic closing of paint cans with unnecessary hammering of lids and shouting. I stormed out of the house, down to the creek and cried. I cried and cried. Ugly crying. There's no pictures of that. And I just couldn't bear the thought of telling one more person who picked up their kid or saw me at the store that, "It's going great...[insert strained smile] and yes, it will be amazing when it's done...." So I cried a little more because I knew that I would have to do that in literally a few hours.

And then, I stood up, wiped the snot and tears on my paint and sweat stained t-shirt, walked back to the kitchen, and went back to painting. Bill was there. Painting with me now. We put on some music. I went out and apologized to Liam for the ruckus. Thankfully Finn and his friend had gone for a bike ride and missed all the drama. And we got things done.

It was ugly. Now...I know what some of you are thinking - Bill and I need to talk or hug or some such...but, Bill and I celebrated 18 years of marriage this year and 25 years of being together. Do you know what that means? It means that sometimes you just know each other so well, that the best thing to do is pick up a paint roller and start painting. I wasn't ready for a hug or even words this afternoon, but...I'll probably take a hug after I post this. In my dreams there will be a giant chocolate cake and a pizza. In reality, there's a lame diet coke.

95% of our baseboards were finished today. The rest get done when our contractor is done. When is that, you ask? Could you please ask him and get back to me on that? Thanks.

Well, at least you'll be warm at the Butter Firkin...on the first floor - no promises anywhere else at the moment. We also have hot water.

Click here for the next adventure.