Fuming
The warmer weather brings change in our lives.
Your dry and damaged hair appears from under a toque, and the sun touches your white and pasty skin. Working out doesn't entail lunging for the remote control during a tampon commercial. An appointment is scheduled with the plastic surgeon to discuss the love handles that nobody loves.
But, like your looks, your house will need some much needed attention during the warmer months. It’s not a total teardown, but a little glue and spackle to keep the thing from collapsing.
**
The risers of the staircase need a paint touch-up. After finding the can of white, semi-gloss, oil-based (always use oil on trim because it lasts longer and is more resistant to scuffs and scratches) paint, I tape off the necessary areas (which included the staircase), and go to work.
There is nothing like opening a can of oil-based paint. It’s euphoric. Well, it’s actually the fumes. The shit can kill you, that is, before you go out on a homicidal rampage after hearing voices whispering in your ear that you’re invincible and nothing can harm you… except for six life sentences at Sing Sing and a bunkmate named Bubba.
When the first and second coats are applied (and my head is in the clouds), I wait for the paint to dry overnight before having the tape removed. The next day is scheduled for the carpet runner to be installed down the staircase.
**
Today arrives with the glossy, white trim, and a slight hangover from the fumes. The carpet runner is about to be installed and I think it’s best to wait another few days to let the paint cure. It’s still in that middle state where it’s dry to the touch, but still wet enough to transfer onto other materials.
Since time is of the essence, the runner must be installed. Now. Almost immediately, the carpet is unrolled, thrown down the staircase while scratching most of the risers I painted the day before.
I am fuming.
“Don’t worry, just use some paint thinner when the paint dries and repaint the rest of the stairs tomorrow, or something,” says the installer.
You fucker, I’m thinking, you should get on your hands and knees and repaint the rest of the stairs, not me.
But, I don’t say anything.
The runner is installed and looks better than before. The risers, on the other hand, look worse for wear. So, in a couple of days, I will have to find the paint thinner, “clean” the mess that was made, and repaint approximately 20 risers.
At least I have the fumes to keep me calm.
Which reminds me, does anyone need a touch up?
Your dry and damaged hair appears from under a toque, and the sun touches your white and pasty skin. Working out doesn't entail lunging for the remote control during a tampon commercial. An appointment is scheduled with the plastic surgeon to discuss the love handles that nobody loves.
But, like your looks, your house will need some much needed attention during the warmer months. It’s not a total teardown, but a little glue and spackle to keep the thing from collapsing.
**
The risers of the staircase need a paint touch-up. After finding the can of white, semi-gloss, oil-based (always use oil on trim because it lasts longer and is more resistant to scuffs and scratches) paint, I tape off the necessary areas (which included the staircase), and go to work.
There is nothing like opening a can of oil-based paint. It’s euphoric. Well, it’s actually the fumes. The shit can kill you, that is, before you go out on a homicidal rampage after hearing voices whispering in your ear that you’re invincible and nothing can harm you… except for six life sentences at Sing Sing and a bunkmate named Bubba.
When the first and second coats are applied (and my head is in the clouds), I wait for the paint to dry overnight before having the tape removed. The next day is scheduled for the carpet runner to be installed down the staircase.
**
Today arrives with the glossy, white trim, and a slight hangover from the fumes. The carpet runner is about to be installed and I think it’s best to wait another few days to let the paint cure. It’s still in that middle state where it’s dry to the touch, but still wet enough to transfer onto other materials.
Since time is of the essence, the runner must be installed. Now. Almost immediately, the carpet is unrolled, thrown down the staircase while scratching most of the risers I painted the day before.
I am fuming.
“Don’t worry, just use some paint thinner when the paint dries and repaint the rest of the stairs tomorrow, or something,” says the installer.
You fucker, I’m thinking, you should get on your hands and knees and repaint the rest of the stairs, not me.
But, I don’t say anything.
The runner is installed and looks better than before. The risers, on the other hand, look worse for wear. So, in a couple of days, I will have to find the paint thinner, “clean” the mess that was made, and repaint approximately 20 risers.
At least I have the fumes to keep me calm.
Which reminds me, does anyone need a touch up?
Authored by S at 12:00 am
3 Comments:
That sucks rocks.
All that hard work for nothing.
God, I hate manual labour.
I have a rude comment to add, but I daren't, lest people think I'm actually that horrible.
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