Dry Bones

The stars and planets were all aligned this morning, which means that the kids were at grandparents and I got to sleep until I felt like getting up.  So, I started on priming over the black hole I painted on the wall several weeks ago.  This project initially reminded me of the Uncle Remus Tar Baby story, but all Brer Rabbit could get stuck was his two feet, two arms, and his head.  This project is infinitely more entangled than that.  The perfect analagy is “Dry Bones.”

Got the paint yesterday, so I check that off.  Newspapers, check; they are stuffed into their cubby in my super desk I made.  Painter’s tape… not here, but that’s ok, it’s outside in the garage with the roller.  There are umpteen rollers and the things that the rollers go on, 4 rolls of painter’s tape, 3 stencils, and NO pans to pour the paint into.   How did that happen?  Must be the same mysterious thief that gets every other sock and the nail clippers.  Go to Stines, buy the pan, get some gummy worms “for the kids.” 

Devour gummy worms on the way home.   I NEED them for the sugar rush.  Move furniture and all things hanging on the wall to other rooms, take down curtains, throw those suckers in the wash, sweep and mop the floor, tape the trim and newspaper, shake the paint can (look at those biceps), and prime over that big black rectangle on the wall.  Wait for 1st coat to dry, remove curtain panels from washer, read the label– Holy Guacamole these were silk, not polyester!  Dry Clean Only!!  If someone else had made this mistake, I would be looking for a divorce lawyer.  Since I can’t divorce myself, there is only one practical solution, and that is to re-decorate the entire house. 

The paint color is connected to the curtain color is connected to the wall art is connected to the couch color is connected to the rug design is connected to the next room and it just keeps on going and going like a deranged Energizer Bunny all the way to the dog house. 

Ezekial in the Valley of the Dry Bones!  If I have to have a song stuck in my head all day, this is a better one than some of the previous songs that overstayed their welcome.  Now that the second coat of primer is dry, I need to get crack-a-lacking.  This old house won’t paint itself.

About Laura Alford, PhD

I'm a recent graduate of LSU (PhD in Accounting). In addition to academic research, I also write fiction on Tuesday nights with the Asilomar Writers.
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