Day Labor

It is not in my personality to get bogged down in the details of things. My creativity leans more toward big picture, pie in the sky, “what would it be like if” concepts. Details get in the way. Sure when I have to I can muddle through the minutia with the best of them, but I’d rather dream and let others deal with reality and execution.

Maybe it is because I like cats. Equipped with a rough tongue, they strip the last remaining fibers of meat, patiently licking the bones of their kill. Nothing goes to waste. (And you thought the tongue was for grooming.)

When it comes to household maintenance projects, I like sanding, the craft of slowly removing the layers of paint off to the bare wood, or at least to a smooth surface that lies below. Like water running over a rock, the erosion is slow and deliberate, the results a surface of perfection. I should not have the patience of it.

In my sister's house the previous owner hired some moron, who should be shot, to paint the enamel surface on all the trim. On went a layer of latex paint without properly preparation. The paint blistered and peeled like a Minnesotan who fell asleep on Daytona Beach during Bike Week. The good news was it took nothing more than a sharp edged blade after the surface was sprayed with a bit of water to remove the botched mess. And two days.

To prep the seven doorways, bathroom window, and hallway trim for primer, I spent the day laboring with 120 and 240 grit sandpaper. Sound electrical? Boy, my tips fingers are sooo sore. The good news is I get to spend the next couple of days cutting the edges with a paint brush. Well, maybe not so good news.