A Road Less Travelled

 I finally went back to the old blog to retrieve the last of our belongings, i.e. drafts we never published. I found this one from October of last year. For some reason I didn’t want to post it at the time, but I was afraid if I deleted the draft I would lose all these lovely memories. So here it is for all posterity…

 
October 9, 2005 

We did a lot of painting yesterday. That sentence pretty much sums up all the official work. We did a lot of painting yesterday. If you want more information on what we actually got done then read James’ post. If you want to know the interesting parts then keep reading.

What with the previous owner moving out downstairs while we painted upstairs, showing Gabrielle around the house, and discussing the best layout of my room, it took me a while to actually get started doing anything. James’ introductions of me and Gabrielle to the people moving out didn’t help much–he took the long way about to explain exactly who we were and how all of us fit together and were related or not related. In all of that he somehow neglected to mention that the child Gabrielle was holding was her nephew, but Gabrielle quickly clarified this important point.

By the time I picked up a paint roller the painting equipment had been confiscated from the children and they had been relegated to the back yard. Regardless of Seth’s accusations I didn’t actually plan it that way–but I didn’t mind very much either. Theresa and I did some touchups and corners while Seth painted the ‘tall parts’. This period of time set the tone for the day as I did my best to annoy Seth, but he refused to admit any annoyance–at least until I pointed out that I was too short to do anything else useful in this room.

Other highlights of the day include:

Seth tried to tape Gabrielle’s mouth shut with painter’s tape, but it didn’t stick very well so she just talked away in complete disregard for the odd, blue mustache Seth had applied to her upper lip.

Gabrielle and I sat on the floor of my new closet ’supervising’ as Seth taped the molding in my room that we couldn’t reach.

I demonstrated that I do not throw like a girl by throwing a roll of tape at Seth. (If this did not prove my point completely I am willing to repeat the experiment as many times as necessary.)

Seth used the end of my braid as a paintbrush. I had refused to let him earlier in the day, but then I accidentally dipped the end of my hair in a paint can lid, and…well, I guess it was just that kind of day.