Had a day at home today. It's good being the boss; I can give myself those from time to time!

I used to work as a painter and decorator, for nearly five years, three in London and two when I came back to New Zealand. On finishing, I vowed only to ever paint and decorate my own house. Yes. Which means I'm sorta stuck doing it.

So, I spent most of today sanding. The living room has been half done for over a month now. The ceiling's done, and there's lining paper on the walls. I sanded most of the woodwork today. Priming, filling, undercoating and top coat to go, then paint the walls. Probably only a good days work in total, but it needs to be spread over three days.

I'm a fussy painter. Sometimes to my detriment as it takes a long time to finish, but I only enjoy it if I feel I've done a good job. When I'm working well painting, I get into a rhythm, things flow, I move efficiently. The paint flows. It's a good feeling.

While waiting for dinner to cook, Deb and I had a discussion on touching, what it means to each of us. She is always saying I don't touch her enough. I know I'm not a big touching hugging person, but I feel I do touch her. It turns out we mean different things by touching. I was holding her in a hug, and she said, "Is this touching for you?". I told her yes, of course. Only to her, that wasn't touching, it was holding. Touching is more intimate, stroking a particular place, rubbing a breast or a thigh. So, when I've thought I've been touching her, I haven't, to her mind.

Is this a Mike/Deb thing, or a male/female thing? Anyway, I'll try and touch more.

Deb's just come in and kissed me. At least we agree on what a kiss is!

Oh, this is my seventh journal entry. Maybe I get to be on the Open Pages webring now.