I turned a painting into a chicken coop. And I assembled most of it myself, until the boys figured out I was up to something and took the drill away from me.
I think I’ve hit some kind of a wall. Building this thing felt like nothing. Painting feels like nothing. I get home from work and slump sideways on the couch and don’t want to watch a show or read a book or draw anything. I'd go for a walk, but I just don't want to.
I'm going to let myself sit here for a while and then see if learning to pour a concrete driveway or install cabinetry feels like anything.
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