I don’t think I’m going to be able to take the flagstone any further today. I did not expect it to take this long to dry. Or to look so disturbingly like brown sugar. Course I also didn’t expect to have enough sand in my shoes to remind me why I hate the beach.
I never did know when to quit. Before I superglued my finger to a towel and gave myself a chemical burn would probably have been prudent. I’m sure everyone has had to dunk their finger in their rinse water at some point. Why am I like this?
Whatever. The beastly thing is *finally* on a base. Even if I did have to break the stairs and the legs a-friggin-gain to get it there. The weathering is heavy handed AF, but I’m too tired to care. I am becoming heartily sick of this particular chunk of foam. Also, craft paints are cheap; there’s a whole lotta filler migrating through these parts. Best to leave the desaturation to tomorrow with fresh eyes.
And maybe one more coat on the grout – black with a touch of green. Fifth time’s a charm. There is stuff to tone down and stuff to pump up, but there is also flocking to be had. Dried leaves in drifts, moss in the cracks between the bricks, weeds arounds the cellar and maybe the odd flower around the balcony supports.
