It seemed like a great idea at first. Sharon volunteering to remodel our granddaughter's bedroom while her folks were vacationing. A little paint, a little carpet and wala' ... a two-day job and back to South Haven in time for 'happy hour'. From my vantage point it looked to me like a couple of days I could goof off a little ... maybe work on the golf swing, may have lunch with my son, maybe just do nothing.
So we headed back to the east side of the state. Great plans of what had to be accomplished in the next few days swirled around inside our old TrailBlazer as be motored home. The more we talked the more I began to better understand that my anticipated vacation might not be quite like I had envisioned. Sharon, you see, likes to help others by nature. Most of us know this. However sometimes she likes to help out by proxy. That is, she'll help ... but old me will do the work. I do feebly complain over the years but to what good I ask. She's usually doing something good for somebody and this project was no exception.
Though she was adamant that she would be doing the entire project herself, I got to thinking (to myself of course) that she had never painted or remodeled much of anything for the many decades we'd been together. I was caught in her trap again. Whoa is me. She volunteers and I get to do the work.
And so it began.
We arrived at my daughter's house and the scene of the crime. A teenager's bedroom. That special refuge where they can escape from Mom, Dad, Brother, and other troubles big and small. Sort of like Guantanamo Bay but without the barbed wire. The room was, to put it mildly, not quite ready to paint like I had thought. Actually it was sort of like she didn't know we were coming that day. But there was no turning back. The mission must begin and the dust, and other teenage treasures began to fly. Furniture dismantled and moved. Various pieces of long-forgotten clothing materialized from under the bed, special little articles of memorabilia from 2nd grade, posters of rock stars (I've not a clue who they were) but all part and parcel of my granddaughter and her life experiences. Even at the tender age of 15 it's okay to be nostalgic.
Getting started is always the worse part so ,with that underway, the next chore was picking out paint colors. Now you need to understand that my granddaughter is not introverted nor is she bashful. She speaks her mind and knows what she likes. So when she and Sharon went out to pick out colors it was a no-brainer. On the other hand, Sharon was probably having serious heart palpitations after seeing the choices. I think I heard the terms 'bold' and 'obnoixous' when she and Sharon described what was picked. No matter to me. She made the choices and I'm good with it. Kids got rights ... sometimes.
Anyway the room was finally emptied, walls taped and ... here we go. I agreed to get them started and show how to hold the brush, handle the roller, spread on the paint, then I'd leave. First off Sharon was charged with edging the walls prior to using the paint roller. A skill in which she had , up to this point, either had seen me or Bob Vila do a few times. Not exactly of the best training but it was all she had. So now armed with that suitcase of tricks she tackled her assignment with cautious exuberance.
Carefully manipulating her paintbrush like a maestro's baton, she inched along the wall. I could see that in the 24 inches she had completed there was now more paint on her than on the wall. The 'bold' was already running down her hand and had found a place on her pants. I was doomed. No escape to the golf course. No goofing off for me. She needed help so, if you know Sharon, who could deny her? Certainly not her spouse of over 44 years.
And so the day went, and well into the evening as well. A pretty good 14-hour day with both kids helping Sharon and I out. There was no doubt not one of us could have done the job alone under the timeline we had. Not that the job was completely done that day either. As I began painting the 'obnocious' color I soon realised the paint's pigment kept separating and it would not properly cover the wall. So back to Lowes, get another gallon, and do the wall over the following day. Ugh! Speaking of Lowes ... I think in total we made 7 or 8 trips there to get one thing or another for this 'little' job. So much for my planning skills.
So was this whole project better than packing up the grand kids and going off to Cedar Point Amusement Park for a couple of days? Maybe it depends on who you ask ... but was it fun for me? Yes it really was! The room looks great, though a bit bizarre, and best of all we had some great times with the grand kids. Our granddaughter was really into helping us get her room remodeled. She worked hard and did things that neither Sharon nor I had either the flexibility or energy to do. She was in charge of all low level painting that required getting down on hands and knees. If she hadn't have helped I'd still be there . My grandson helped drag the heavy old carpet out to the garage. Quite a bit of strength I'd say. Since I took it out of the room on to the porch. I can attest it was a heavy, awkward load. We're really proud of both the kids and even the dog Charlie sort of cooperated by not rubbing up against any wet paint.
Another small chapter has been written in our life book. We're pretty lucky and still living' the dream.
Phil
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