Category: painting

I am painting

I am painting the attic. The daughter helped me with the primer coat, but still–
I am painting the attic because, after we got half of the attic insulated – in JANUARY – the Wife said we had to paint that half of the attic.
I am painting the attic, even though she didn’t mention painting it BEFORE we got the attic insulated.
I am painting the attic, since she thought it was “obvious” that we would have to paint it after the insulation.
I am painting the attic, even though the only time painting is “obvious” to me is when paint is peeling or obviously faded.
I am painting the attic, even though I think it’s “just the attic”.
I am painting the attic because all of the items in the one half of the attic are now jammed in the other half of the attic, making everything in the attic inaccessible.
I am painting the attic because I want to play my LPs.
I am painting the attic because I want to access my summer clothes.
I am painting the attic because it’s the only way to get to about half of my books.
I am painting the attic because there are things on the second floor, including the Christmas decorations, that really need to go up to the attic.
I am painting the attic despite the fact that I hate painting – the feel of paint, the smell of paint. Don’t tell me that modern paint has “no smell”.
I am painting the attic despite the fact that I can’t see the difference between the current light gray walls, the white primer and the yellow paint, so I keep painting over the same areas. Maybe I’m just colorblind.
I am painting the attic now, even though it would have been better to paint the attic in the winter, when it’s not as warm.
I am painting the attic, even though it takes time away from writing a decent blog post.
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Go look at these quite spectacular pictures of Iceland’s Eyjafjallajokull volcano.
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May Day, May Day! Free Comic Book Day, the Kentucky Derby and May Day all converge on May 1.
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Do pacifiers lead to drug addiction and masturbation?

ROG

ROG

The Lydster, Part 53: Room of Many Colors


Lydia is susceptible to allergies, not just peanuts, but also including dust mites. So it is incumbent upon us to scrub her walls thoroughly periodically. Last year, during the process, Carol and her father painted Lydia’s room a peach color that Lydia didn’t like for reasons of design that were lost on me. So this year, when she was asked what colors she would like on her walls, Lydia told them, and Carol and her father complied. The room is now pink. And blue. And purple. And yellow. And green. With a floor that’s a color called Rose Balcony. And now Lydia is very happy with a room that she can call her own. They also painted a white chair pink to match her bedding. Joseph, the 11th son of Israel, would be pleased.
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Other sources of allergies, which I share with her, are grasses and ragweed, which we monitor. Saturday, while I was cutting the grass, Lydia came outside to pick some wildflowers. That afternoon, she had shortness of breath, and that night she coughed for three hours; cough medicine is of no use, but the drugs in the nebulizer eventually did the trick.
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I don’t often say things like, “Boy, is my girl smart!” OK, maybe I do. But it seemed like only a few weeks ago, she insisted that twenty-nine was followed by twenty-ten, my insistence to the contrary notwithstanding. But now she can count to one hundred and beyond. Shades of Toy Story.

Picture #1 courtesy, of Earthworld Comics, May 2008.
Picture #2 courtesy of Uthaclena, August 2008.

ROG

ROG
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