Part 2 of 3
Cornered and double-teamed
When renovations at “Casa Neuevo” began at roughly the same time as 2022, the sheer number of tasks to be addressed myself or assisted by trained professionals gave me pause. I compiled a long list, then not at all arbitrarily, prioritized and ranked list items by need, financial requirements, and hopes to be around when work completed.
For the sake of my sanity and selfishly planning to have something of a normal life during renovations, I boldly declared how things would go. You know, “this before that,” “that so long as that didn’t interfere with this,” “this and that only if finances were stable,” “this and that within these limitations,” and “sufficient time [and energies] available” kinds of things.
One [humongous and tedious] task bubbled-up to announce both its priority and place in the project timeline. To wit: painting will not begin until inside rehabs are finished and certainly not until autumn’s cooler [and less hectic] months arrive.
I am a perfectionist. Painting must always be perfectly executed, neat, orderly, and flawless. Having both paid for professional painters in the past and seeing the results produced by the kindergarten children hired to paint Casa Neuevo by previous owners, I would personally do the painting. [Kindergarten children remarkably better than professionals but still not up to my expectations.]
I detest painting. When I paint, I require time. No interruptions to the creative process are allowed. I will not be hurried. No change in religion justifies changing color preference once a paint can is opened. Simple, eh? Enter the downstairs Crew Chief.
“Say, do you want to paint the down bath before we install the vanity and railroad crossings?”
“No.” [Surprise! Boss is standing to my left, party to this conversation.]
Crew Chief tries again. “Be easier that way. We can take a day off while you’re painting.”
“No.” [Boss does not look pleased.]
“Be easier,” Crew Chief repeats.
“No. I’m not painting.” [Boss’s eyebrows suggest this ‘conversation’ is just beginning.]
I clarify for Crew Chief: “Imma repaint at least three times in five years, so cutting-in around installations is no big deal.”
“Okay. But it’d be easier.” Crew Chief tries the eyebrow trick, then retreats.
How the paint puddled
As if you din’t know.
It turns out I was dispatched anyway to the Big Boy Toy Store. The shopping list included new flooring, underlayment, trim, etc., etc., yadda, yadda.
Yadda yadda included sufficient Brookside White for the down bath. Since this begins my painting adventure [which now will span five months instead of two] here at Casa Neuevo, etc., etc. included spiffy [and expensive – a proper job requires proper tools] brushes, rollers, trim aids, trays. [I already own a super-duper deluxe drop cloth. A flash of insight had me pack it on one of my pickup truck interstate transfers. Ladders and stepstools migrated too.]
So much for bold declarations.
Once again, I must pause. Not because of sore fingertips, an empty coffee cup, or a bladder calling for release. It is out of concern for mentally stressing lexiphobes. I will wrap tomorrow. Maybe.
Part 3 Tune in tomorrow, same time, same place