Blisters Hurt!

I have had many blisters in my life....mostly from wearing shoes that are just worth the pain - i.e. my cute gold Coach Espridilles that I just had to wear to a wedding last weekend. (As my momma says, "no pain, no gain!")

But I don't think that I have ever had a blister from pure work until this whole house building thing began. I now have calluses on my hands (if you look real close you can see them, I swear) and scars to prove my hard work at the house. Okay...one scar is from a pesky mosquito chasing me down while working, but the other is from the broom. And ouch...a blister!

I spent my Monday evening picking up trash and sweeping the basement floor. At first, I was thrilled. It was much like an unveiling of a piece of art - except it was a stained basement floor. This was the first time I had ever seen it uncovered completely. And boy was it a mess. Who knew that painters and drywallers would cover just about anything that got in their path?

After a quick sweep, vacuum and a brush over with the mop, all of its color began to glisten through. Blaine spent many a backbreaking day in the spring staining the concrete floor. I supervised. Rumor has it, I stood out there one day in the cool breeze in my pink hooded sweatshirt, with my pink Zune, covering my mouth and eyes while standing on a board watching Blaine cut concrete in a very straight, precise manner - thanks to my board. We both walked away with all fingers and toes - and that was deemed a mighty accomplishment. (Have I ever told you how clumsy I am?)

I was also pretty much informed last night that I myself was a blister. Actually, I think that Uncle Jerry, our tile guy, said, "Misti, I hate you." With all due respect, Uncle Jerr meant this in the best possible way - he was indeed on his hands and knees scrubbing my floor with a toothbrush. Truth be known - Jerry still likes me.....he just hates my tile - too many rough edges and grooves to remove grout out of. I am assuming that with all of the scrubbing, he now has blisters.

Should I order a hefty supply of band-aids? Maybe. I can just see the eye roll now from Blaine as I walk in with a 2000-count box of band-aids. So maybe I won't. I would have to put duck tape over his mouth of comments and then we would use all 2000 band-aids when he ripped it off. So...band-aids for the Preston's do not seem like a very good investment.

I think a fresh manicure will cure my needs - and that is what I wanted anyway, right?