I figured I had plenty of time to work. Jeff and James had said they would be at the house “early” in the morning, but early is a relative term, and I knew they had worked last night. But I got a text from them as I was having the coffee. They asked when I wanted them there. Um, now came to mind. I was beginning to panic because a) I LOATHE to have the house torn up; b) it’s hard for me to cede control of something like this – even if I trust the people involved, which I do; c) James is of course just breezily saying it won’t be a problem because that is his way. I don’t ever assume anything is going to be easy; first because nothing in this house HAS been easy, and secondly because it feels like tempting fate to me. I also felt like we had missed a whole day yesterday.
Fortunately, although James is a very easy-going kind of person, he understands that I am not. He reassured me very nicely, and they arrived in fairly short order. I spent the waiting time putting the second coat of paint on the blessedly dry ceiling.
As seems usual with born optimists, the fates seem to be kind to James. As soon as they arrived the threatening rain backed off and the day turned gorgeously glorious. I often wonder are optimists the cause of such events? Or are they optimists because they are constantly showered with good fortune? A deeper debate for another day I suppose. I just know I have to walk a very fine line or the universe seems to feel I’m exhibiting hubris for which I must be punished. I read once in a Pearl S Buck novel about how Chinese women would strive not to be too proud of their sons, lest the gods take them away. I could identify with that mindset.
After a foray to the Kmart, where they had what we needed (more good fortune which I will attribute to James – they hardly ever have what I need), Jeff and James set to work. I must admit, it did go amazingly quickly. I forget how exponentially faster two people can be than just one. I have spent so much of my life doing things on my own. So I was pleasantly surprised that not only were they making excellent progress, they seemed to feel that I shouldn’t do any of it (in fact, James made sure I was rendered useless before they even started), which suited me just fine.
I sat to the side, and talked to them, topped off their drinks smoked, lit cigarettes for them, made food appear, and just generally tried to make myself agreeable.
The luck held until this afternoon. I had a gallon of white paint that I had bought a couple of years ago that I thought would be fine for the trim. As it turns out, I was dead wrong. The paint was sorry and thin. It was runny and refused to coat. When we went to get another gallon of good paint, it did something wonky to the good paint when James tried to cover it. Eventually, even James had to admit that things weren’t working. They weren’t going to be able to finish today.
Although I had been hopeful after they got started, this wasn’t a huge surprise to me. I’m not satisfied when I find a fly in the ointment, but I’m never particularly shocked. They said they would come back tomorrow to finish, for which I was very grateful. Jeff had done the top trim very last, and we sat on the bed to admire the good work before they left.
I am very grateful that they’re doing such a good job, and that they’re coming back to finish quickly so the house wouldn’t have to be torn up for a week. But I feel guilty about the fact that it is so much trouble to them. I love Jeff and James, and I hate that they are going to end up giving up two precious days off to do this for me. It seems like I asked for a very big Christmas gift at this point.
A blurry phone pic, showing the ceiling and tinted primer coat. Already a big change!
Closet corner, showing my crappy cutting in of the ceiling on the crown molding.
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