I'm spent.

That's all there is to really say about it. This weekend took it out of me, but I feel really great.

As I type this I'm riding the bus into work, bleary eyed, back aching, fingers slightly dry, cracked, and a little roughed up. My iPhone's screen speckled with flecks of white paint, a trophy of the weekend's DIY spoils.

Yesterday evening, after a marathon two days of effort, culminating in a Sunday packed with roughly 13-14 hours of non stop work on the house, I remarked to Wendy that we'd "accomplished a lot this weekend." She said, "Yeah, it's like you're in your 20s again."

This statement, true in so many ways, got me thinking about where we are today versus where we were in those early innocent days of home ownership and renovation. Wendy has attributed my less frequent all-day efforts on projects to the fact that I'm "getting older," but I think it has less to do with age related decomposition and more to do with age related decisions and commitments.

I distinctly remember waking up on Monday mornings over the years and feeling just as I do this morning. Groggy, tired, aching, stiff, slow, but still yearning for just one more day to give my all out effort and put us just that much closer to the finish line on a project, frustrated that Monday came too soon. I distinctly remember it throughout our time in the house, not just in the early days, but it seems to be happening less frequently now. Why?

Other interests, alternate hobbies (Nationals baseball), spending more time with friends, gripping television (that one is a super lame excuse), and our jobs have all stolen bits and pieces of the DIY monster's allotment of weekend time. Now, the monster must scrape and claw for all available free time, otherwise it will be quickly lost to the other items I've mentioned.

To truly capture the euphoric exhaustion that I'm feeling today, and that I've felt many times in the past, this is a reminder that I need to actually set aside the time, rather than have our house work exist in "spare time," as it often occurred in those early days when such a thing was more plentiful.

Now, more than 10 years removed from the purchase of our home, we have fond memories of the early days of our work. We remember how hard we work just to make small amounts of progress, how we struggled to pinch pennies wherever possible in order to save for bigger projects down the road, and most importantly, how little we knew and understood what we were getting ourselves into.

Today, with those early fond memories of the difficulties associated with buying our first home, doing the work ourselves, and uncertainty regarding our ability to pull off our vision, I wish I could go back in time and tell myself to appreciate those days more and remember them as clearly as possible. Those days represent the essence of what it is to do what we love to do.

As broken and sore as I feel this morning, the feeling is such a vivid reminder of the time in my life that I appreciate so much. It's also a reminder that this time isn't ancient history, or lost, never to be seen again. Rather, this time is my own making, and it's up to me to make sure I commit myself to setting aside the time necessary so that I'm able to feel the sense of exhausted accomplishment that feels so completely fulfilling come Monday morning.

Here's to what I hope are many more exhausted Mondays, may we all go to work in glorious agony while carrying pride on our shoulders.