August 22, 2005

11:02 p.m.

The Adventures of Spackle Girl, or, Who Put the Art in Apartment?

Corn Silk, meet Mayapple. Shake hands; that's nice. Over here we have Golden Ember and Drum Beat; they're the party couple. Look up. See Cozy Light? She'll be there to make each dawn sweet and dreamy.

This is the day you get to move the fridge and see what's under it that belonged to the previous tenant, and vacuum the hairy stuff out of the coils that looks like a dead Santa's beard. The day you'll become intimately acquainted with all the round phone cable that runs along the baseboards. You get to choose whether to paint it the wall color or the trim color. This is the day you decide against the red trim outside the breakfast nook, and see how much primer it takes to cover it back up before you can paint it again.

This is the Day of Yellow.

Not the blatant, icky yellow you found when you moved back in after a 6 year absence, the one that made the room look like the inside of a yellow lollipop. But the other yellows that will work with the old linoleum but still not turn the room into a sun factory. Corn Silk, meet Mayapple. Think jonquil, think buttermilk. Then turn left into the breakfast nook and go a little Carribean. The mudcloth from Ghana now matches the wall. The oil study of the Haitian girl looks at home across from it. And those two red-framed windows are positively sumptuous.

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My friend Tom came the last two days and helped. Otherwise the walls and ceiling wouldn't be done yet. The red trim on the windows took about six coats; I'm glad I opted out of doing any more.

I'm beat. My feet hurt; my brain is foggy. My brush hand is still saying, "Wax on, wax off." Soon I have to get back to band business. But tomorrow, one window frame, a door and a few touchups. Then the kitchen will be done. I'll rest from painting; will be busy and away for about two and a half weeks. My callouses are fading because I haven't touched a guitar all week. It's going to hurt, getting back into shape.

But meanwhile, sleep.