What Was My Crime?

This moving stuff is killing me! I feel like I've been sentenced to hard labour but I'm not sure what my crime was. We finished sanding and varnishing the floors, did I tell you? They're shiny, shiny, shiny. Now we are painting. Painting is always harder than I think it is going to be, but since everything looks better with a fresh coat of paint I keep slapping the stuff on the walls. When that is done I get to pack up all my belongings and shift them from here to there. Needless to say (but I'll say it anyway) I haven't had much time to read. I have managed to squeeze in Anne Enright's The Gathering and Margaret Drabble's The Sea Lady, both of which I plan to write more about as soon as I have the time and energy. Will I ever have time and energy again?