I am finally near the end of a seemingly never-ending cycle of painting the hall. Following a six week break over Christmas and school holidays, I have three down and only one painting day left in this job.
The only problem with taking a break while I was riddled with feral children is that whatever arm and shoulder strength I had gained last year dissipated under the combined effect of too many pavlovas and heat-induced sloth. Ah, summer!
My arms now feel like they are made of pink blancmange during a 7.5 Richter scale event. At the end of a painting day, my hands shake so hard I could use them to whisk eggs. I certainly wouldn't attempt to carry a hot drink unless I was in the mood for burned hands and cleaning the floor (which I never am).
You see, I am the possessor of a tremor at the best of times but unusual exercise drives my arms crazy.
I am in a mad struggle to finish the job, not just because we are extremely sick of having the usual contents of the hall and the painting bits distributed around the house. I am such a lucky little duck I am starting jury duty next week.
I wonder what you can wear to increase the chance you will be discarded from jury selection? A tea cosy on the head and bras on the outside maybe? Is it too late to develop a major twitch combined with an intermittent pained yell? If only my tremor was more extensive than my arms. Poop.