Family fun project not
Not a good week to write an opinion. Not a positive thought on the horizon
Not impressed with one-inch color samples. Who'd have thought "Early Bronze" was really "Baby Diarrhea Yellow," "Northern Lake" was really "Peabody Blue," and "Pale Bronze" was really "White"? So much for the first choice, although it looked really swell on those little squares.
Not thrilled this house is so big
Not fond of scraping old paint.
Not fond of applying oil base primer.
Not fond of latex primer either. Less fond of the two-coat rule. Even less fond of the authoritative Married Daughter who put herself through college doing this and now bosses the job.
Not impressed with people who drive by and honk.
Not impressed with the unimaginative people who drive by and yell, "You missed a spot" or "When you're done there, you can come do mine."
Not going to smile anymore at them or nod as if I think they are clever.
Not gonna do it.
And I'm not going to sit in a lawn chair supervising the transformation any longer. It is just too tense, too tedious. It's been four days now and I am simply all in. I can't take anymore. Really, I can't. I just get comfortable and it is time to move my chair to get a better view. I get up and get a fresh glass of iced tea, nestle into the shade, and presto
My neck hurts, my right elbow is raw from rubbing against the arm of the lawn chair while raising my iced tea glass to my mouth. I'm hoarse from shouting directions and advice. I have a headache from listening to the scrapers rasping off the old paint, and I am sick and tired of not being appreciated. After all, I am doing the best I can!
They are just going to have to go on without me. I simply can't take it anymore.
Hopefully next week, after I've rested, this opinion column will be more positive.
— SUSAN MARSHALL
