Monday, March 27, 2006

Plus There's Paint In My Hair

If you have a pretty little picket fence installed (complete with an arbor over which glorious flowers will one day climb), to replace the giant hedges that used to front your property line, your landscape designer may inform you that it will cost approximately 45 gazillion dollars to paint it white. At this point, you and your spousal unit—thinking, undoubtedly, of upcoming property tax payments, preschool tuition, and whatnot—may look at each other and say, "We'll do it."

Your landscape designer may then say, "Really?! Okay. You just need to put on a coat of primer and then two coats of paint." And then you'll say, "Okay!"

On Sunday at about 10:00 am, you will bound out into the yard with all the enthusiasm of a puppy and begin to slather on the primer with an admirable abandon. At 11:00, both your technique and fervor will have peaked. At 12:00 you'll stop for lunch, occasionally staring with disdain at the partially painted fence. You'll notice that you're kinda sore from all the stooping, but you will keep a pleasant facade in place, if only to buck up the spirits of a spousal unit who, at 6'3", has a far more difficult time than you do with the stooping. You'll get back to work. At 3:00, your good-natured neighbor will pick up a paintbrush and help you. At 5:00, the three of you will look at each other and know that the end is nigh. At 5:30, the spousal unit will officially yell "Uncle." When you stand back to survey your work, you will see that barely half the fence is painted.

That evening the spousal unit will clean all the paintbrushes and store them neatly in the garage. And the next morning you will e-mail the landscape designer to let her know that 45 gazillion dollars is, after all, a steal.

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