The plate has been pretty full lately. We are cleaning up a house and getting ready for a move…naked.
There are packing boxes filling up the house. Now we are walking trails through what is reminiscent of a train wreck. It looks like a pathological hoarder lives here. I have stubbed my bare toe on a box or two, but nothing serious. Packing while nude is okay.
Drywall, painting, plumbing, wood trimming, and staining are also working out well barefoot all over.
The drywall washes right off, instead of gumming up clothing. I don’t get as messy because I’m more aware and not brushing up against dust. When I stretch across a space to reach those awkward points on the 12 foot high ceiling, I’m not encumbered by clothing. I’m grateful to have my body unrestricted. I’m better balanced.
Near the ceiling, it is hotter as the heat collects. Living in breathing skin, I stay cooler, more comfortable. While having to close the bathroom door, to protect the woodwork with plastic wrap, it can get very hot.
Painting, with oil based paints requires us to put on shirts and a cheap hat from the hardware store. There is a tremendous difference when I put on the light shirt to keep the many specks of paint from falling on me. It is hot immediately. My arms can’t stretch as far; my back gets caught with friction in the shirt. It feels like an overcoat after spending several days in a row without any clothing.
We opt out of the use of protective pants. The act of squatting to get to the low spots, climbing a ladder, moving delicately on the top rungs all are enhanced by bare legs.
Clean up in the yard and clearing new monsoon growth for the stuccos guys and painters is a nude pleasure as always. The sun is tanning me well.
This my way of jus’ sayin’ that my publishing schedule may be interrupted during this transition. A few days here and there.