Silhouette of emptiness, wrapped up in thoughts of nothing less. My chest is pressed, as I attempt to cross this bridge you're building.

The last few days, I've been feeling like I've making an impressive dent in the progress of getting this house back in order.
Having rebuilt the kitchen from scratch, rebuilt walls, redecorated, new floors, lots of painting....downstairs is pretty much done. Bar a couple of small odd 'n' ends. I'm off work for a week now, so most of that will be finishing off redecorating the three bedrooms. Then I can sort out what furniture I'm short of. I've been picking bits and pieces up at an auction I've started to go to. It's all used stuff, some very well used, but there's certainly some bargains to be had. That will leave the bathroom to completely rebuild, sorting carpets for the hall, stairs and landings, then finally the top bedroom. It still sounds like a lot. And it doesn't finish there either. There's loads of other things that need fixing or replacing or whatever; I've got trees out the front that need removing or cutting right back. I've got some guttering issues, the garage door is fucked, there's fencing needs replacing, the garden is in need of a total overhaul and I'd like to paint the front of the house as well.
Blimey. And there was me just thinking I'd done so much already, when now I just feel deflated.
Shit.