Paint Over

The painters came today.

We hired a company to paint our house and take care of some problems that haven't ripened enough for me to do. Yeah, the truth is that some of these problems were so unripe, in my estimation, that we'd be flying to work in anti-gravity belts before I got around to doing them. So, there you have it.

Painters have three things that make them successful: tools, skill and experience. I've got one out of those three which makes me a dangerous person to be let loose around the house.

In case you haven't guessed by now, of the three, I have TOOLS. Yes, I have great garage-loads of tools. I have a table saw and a drill press and skill saws out the wazoo and electric gizmos of all kinds. Check out a Sears Tool Catalog. Point to anything. I've got that. Maybe two.

On the skill and experience side, however, the meter reads zero, unless you consider being able to generate mounds of sawdust "skill and experience."

Our Painters, as we call them now, on the other hand, possess all three and they demonstrate their skills with panache. Each day we arrive home to new delights: the garage door, the gutters and the delicate trim. It's a very moving experience, that is, the neighbors think we're moving. Apparently they're planning a block party. We aren't invited.

Soon, however, Our Painters will be gone. No more delights. No more panache. I'll miss Our Painters.

I'm thinking that I don't quite like the color of the house. No, not quite. I think it need to be done again...