Rough and ready for a new coat
Up on top of the hill things are all blue skies and views for miles … unless you turn 45 degrees to the right.
The ugly old shop is in need of a facelift. I’ve been told I’m the only one who notices such things. Maybe so. But since I live here and look at it every time I drive up the lane, I’m entitled to a little displeasure, right? Exactly.
We bought the place nearly seven years ago. One of the first things we did was tear out some fugly bushes that were big and overgrown and scraping against the steel building. I had plans to paint it but alas, I was gestating and never got around to it.
Every summer I say, “Let’s paint!” It hasn’t happened. Sometimes I suggest we have those gypsy barn painters do it — you know the type. They spot your barn from the road, tell you they can paint the whole thing in a day for $XXX and then it washes off with the first rain because it was a watered-down version of barn paint to begin with. But I digress.
This is the summer. Nothing gets my blood boiling like the treacherous combination of hormones and irritation. And when that happens I’m very productive. I install new lighting … I rip up carpet … I paint the kitchen ceiling. Except I’m tired. It’s hot. I’m still recovering from the great kitchen ceiling endeavor.
Besides, why should I labor in the hot sun when there are extremely hard-working college boys around who are willing to do almost anything for some cold, hard cash?
The transformation begins. For the record, I’m extremely sorry that the first day of the project began with heat index warnings of 104. We’ve given him a thermos full of ice water and assured him that if it gets too hot it’s absolutely fine to come back in the morning. Rome wasn’t built in a day and we certainly don’t expect the shop to be painted that quickly, either.
Farmboy did suggest we should spray him with the hose if it gets too hot …