March 12, 2010
I Should Kick Myself
The entry into the garage. We had new siding put on the house three…four? years ago. At the time, they also put in new garage doors with openers, new windows in the media room (a 10′x25′ room on the south side of the house). Why I didn’t include this door in the deal is a mystery to me. I remember thinking, “Ooo, this is too much money.” But, honestly, what would another three or four hundred dollars have done to the loan, lien on the house over the course of fifteen years?
Nevermind the decaying concrete ruined by ten years of throwing “snow-melt” on top of it, that now needs to be ripped out and replaced. “All in good time,” I keep thinking. “All in good time.” And then there’s the landscaping. Oh, fuck it. The shoemaker’s kids go without shoes.
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The dark brown painted on the top right corner of the door is the color we intend(ed) to paint the exterior doors of the house and garage. Then there are the light fixtures we bought three years ago to go on either side of the door where the rectangley things are, either side of the top, the siding people put on in anticipation of their installation.
Oh, Cindy, now I’m ready to bust out bawlin’.
Rick–at every turn I see again that you are the lovliest man on the planet. Also, I would love to make a series of pictures of color sampling done on walls and various places–and left there for the fine sense of open possibilities it suggests. About paint remover I have this to offer: a neighbor who moved away a while back gave me some paint stripper that you spread on like cake frosting–and it comes with a kind of paper you put over it. Then, when it “cures” after a few hours, you peel the paper off and the paint comes with it! Sounds great. But the whole batch is still out in the shed, waiting to be tested.
Oh Daryl, you know we have other samplings painted on walls and paint chips stuck in places. We now have the upstairs painted, except for four inches of wall above the stairwell at the ceiling, where we’ll need some sort of scaffold to reach, two years after starting. We’re ready to start the downstairs. The ladder and paint and brushes and rollers have been sitting in one end of the media room for two months. Phil was here to see them. (They’re kind of like duct-tape, just sitting there out in the open. But it seems no one notices. (Or if they do notice, they’re kind enough not to say anything about it. Or at least not say anything where we can hear.)
y’all. don’t let Amy see these threads.
AMY! AMY, AMY, AMY!
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Are you a cobbler now? Peach, I bet, or cherry.
I washed dishes in the bathtub for over 2 years while we renovated our kitchen.
I can’t get that time back.
Here we are, but where will we be? West of Denver with biscuit-fixins over the holiday weekend in May. Other than that, uncertainty will be the norm.
Dave, you guessed it right, I’m cherry, but I do love a good peach cobbler in season. Danny’s the cobbler in this house. (He has been known to make a mean peach and cherry cobbler. ) I eat what he makes, that is, I eat what is set in front of me. I merely tear things out (or have things torn out, landscape-wise), to leave the dream unrealized.
Amy, this doesn’t hold a candle to two years of dishes in the tub, but the first three weeks of living here, our contactor still didn’t have a bathroom finished. (two months after he said he be finished.) We had a functioning toilet and sink in the basement we used, sponge-bathing down there while he finished the first bath. I’ve nearly forgotten the aggravation of timelines not met. (Well, maybe not ,really.) We washed our martini glasses in the sink down there, too, until I finished the kitchen.