Toxic Fumes Can Cause Drain Bamage...

I feel like I have been sucking on a car exhaust tailpipe or huffing a can of paint thinner. But instead, I have merely been painting my hallway woodwork and doors with a fuming, oil-based primer! And to think there are people out there that actually DO buy this stuff to get high?!? If you listen closely, I'm sure you can hear the faint sound of my brain cells popping in traumatic death...

I know, I know...what WAS I thinking to begin a painting project at the coldest time of the year in Seattle with little hope of leaving doors or windows open for proper ventilation? Well, it's simple...and I WAS thinking (just not so clearly NOW on my brain damaged high). I was thinking that I have been feeling so good, I needed to take advantage of my "flight into wellness" and get some projects done around here that require more than one or two days of constant attention...like painting...with toxic fumes. LOL

I know I am singing to the choir here amongst MSers when I say it's important to take advantage of the *feel good* times because one never knows what lovely MS symptom might greet them in the morning. Perhaps tomorrow, I might wake up with numbness (although given the "drugged" state of my brain right now from fumes, I doubt I would notice!), or weakness, or pain, or...the list can be endless, and the unknowns? Well, they remain unknown...hence the name.

I DO tend to over do it when I am feeling good...just read back through this monotonous blog and you'll see where I've leaped into wellness, only to crash awkwardly to the floor. But still I leap...with a tiny hitch in my git along. And I have a list as long as my left leg of projects I need to complete around the hut...yesterday and today was painting.

My father (otherwise known and referred to as "EP", which is what I actually CALLED him throughout my childhood...pronounced as one word, EEEP), was an interior/exterior painter...the fumes of gasoline, paint thinner, and TOXIC PAINT simply remind me of growing up. I worked for him every summer, holiday break, and sometimes weekends from the time I was 9 years old. He ran a "family" business, first out of our garage, then later out of a small store-front shop...and "family business" to him meant family LABOR. I learned to paint at a very young age and later became a skilled laborer, doing fine, precision work after EP lost his ability to see up close. Painting for me is no different than dusting or vacuuming. But you think I WOULD have learned NOT to paint in small quarters with TOXIC CHEMICALS now, wouldn't you?!? I'm cracking myself up right now with the notion, but I'm not sure if it is a laughter induced from being "high" or just pure laughter...guess it doesn't matter much now.

POP...oops, there goes another brain cell biting the dust. I wonder if THAT will show up on my next MRI? I'm pretty sure SOMETHING should show up on a urine toxicology screen right about now!...