Not to pun, but I’ve been hitting a wall. I just learned I have anemia, which is one of those now-you-tell-me things which explains a lot of little physical weirdnesses, like the fatigue attacks. I’m coming out of one now; had it for most of the week. Wednesday’s gym workout was a labor of–if not love, then determination. But I knew that Thursday was out of the question. I crawled home and went to bed.

Been that way with the house–now I’m starting to appreciate how big a project this is (in a small way, of course), but there’s only one way to go. Le sigh.

Shingling is proceeding slowly. Not only do they ruck up for a while during drying, but the entire roof is curling at the edges like one half of a pagoda:

I’m betting a lot of actual roofs look a lot worse. (The row nearest the peak was just put on an hour ago.)

Worst come to worst, my daughter thinks that if I untape it when it’s done and put it under a stack of encyclopedias it should straighten out. I’m afraid that some of the shingles will crack off; I’m probably going to decide to live with it.

Started the repainting with the addition:

Yup, that’s my laundry basket I knocked over to do this. So sue me.

And then (oh God) decided to go ahead and do it in fieldstone. Just finished roughing in the first layer of stones:

Why, yes, as a matter of fact I *am* crazy, thank you.

Next is the detail, for which I need a better brush, so enough for today. I draw and paint fieldstone a lot. I don’t know why, because it drives me nuts. It’ll certainly be a decisive change from the pink.

Anybody out there have any insight into what it means to do teeny little obsessive details? Come to think of it, that describes having a dollhouse to begin with.