Tuesday, 15 February 2011
Giving in gracefully, or Why I am always skint.
Took up stair carpet, left underlay. Gentle paws must be protected from gripper spikes.
Took up underlay. Nerves must be protected from ungentle skittering and scampering of excited cats over playground underlay, day and night, claws extended, and from Scooter turning it into rubbery confetti which Flossie then chews.
Stairs swept, hoovered, every scrap of stuck-on carpet fibre laboriously picked off old paint with pointed pliers, staples and tacks levered out; sand and undercoat sides (the 'string') of each step. New carpet must butt up against pristine paintwork, just needing to be touched up here and there.
Hands and sander frequently damaged by gripper spikes; toes of slipper-soles becoming shredded by regular impalement on same. Notice that dogs and cats manage to negotiate stairs without coming to harm.
(Also note the irritating noise of heavy dog claws clickety-clacking up and down uncarpeted stairs at all times of day or night. Revise dream of having beautiful polished floors everywhere in next house.)
Gloss painting commenced. Suffer sudden attack of extreme listlessness and frequent urge for sit-downs with cup of tea. Gird loins, make a start, sighing mournfully.
Each dab of fresh white paint only serves to accentuate yellowness of all the rest of the paintwork, and the many, many chipped edges. Only two years since Wally and his apprentice Millie decorated those stairs!
Realisation dawns: all the woodwork will have to be painted properly; 'touching up' won't do.
Thirty-five treads, many spindles, eight doors off landings and hallway.... nightmare prospect if you loathe glossing as much as I do! And then there's my ability to spill paint, leave fingerprints, daub my clothes and hair, miss bits, close doors before paint is dry, and much much more. And then there's the cats, and Flossie....
Result: Telephone call to Wally, who, sensing a desperate tone, shuffled his work commitments around, and is coming to paint the whole lot for me on Monday.
Sit down with sigh of relief and cup of tea. Forget paintbrush, which dries like concrete.
If anyone asks me enviously what I do with all the time I have on my hands, I can reply with honesty that I spend it dodging work.
Posted by rachel at 21:05