The Wallpaper is Dead…

…and I have conquered it.  Oh, yeah!  I only fell off the ladder once, trying to hurry down to answer the doorbell for the repairman.*  I still need to take a razor blade to cut the edges off around two cabinets, but today is a day of rest. And a day not clutching cabinets in order to avoid falling into the sink.

Next weekend, M&D Delivery (aka “mother and dad service”) will be transporting a scaffolding from Eldest Brother. Then it will be painting, painting, and possibly painting.

Before they arrive, I will be engaging in an experiment in terror called “Handle Once” which involves handling things only once. I know, who would have suspected truth in advertising for a change? (Unlike Eat That Frog! which was neither about cooking nor about frogs.)

Evidently, based on the testimony of several Time Management gurus and a Business tycoon, there is only one way to deal with the miscellaneous items that keep circulating throughout La Casa de Tontería. You know the ones: the business cards, the DVDs (or at least their cases), and the books I can’t seem to get rid of because the person who gave it to me wrote a nice note in inside.  The next time I touch them, they will dealt with personally and without mercy. Bwahahaha!

Oh, I should probably clarify that “them” and “they” refer to the books, not the people who gave them to me. That was my I’m-destroying-things laughter and not my you-will-taste-my-wrath laughter.

But I digress.

You might wonder why I’m doing this experiment now. Shouldn’t I be patching the walls or priming during my spare time? Well, I hate to admit it but I can’t find the color swatch. THE color. The one that covers the livingroom, halls, and everywhere in the kitchen that the wallpaper wasn’t.

“Can’t you just use a close-enough colour?” you ask. (And you use “colour” instead of “color” because you’re a Canadian friend or you’ve been reading Austin again.) The very fact that you’d ask that hurts me.  Really, it’s like the malevolent spirit of Jerkface MacGuyver had taken over your body in an attempt to sorta-kinda redo my kitchen. I mean, did you really just ask if I couldn’t use an almost-right color (or colour)?

No, I can’t. It would drive me crazy.

Even if it didn’t drive me crazy (which it would), my beloved progenitor to whom I owe my very existence – no, not my father, the other one – would notice. And she would continue to notice for years to come. And even if she never said anything, I would see her looking up from my table thoughtfully, saying nothing but looking at the wall above the cabinets, and I would follow her line of vision and it would be the wrong color or possibly colour.

So I must find the paint swatch by Friday, or my parents can never visit me again. (And to those who wonder “Can’t your father visit?”, the answer is “No. They are a matching set.”)

 

*Footnote: Yes, my phone & wireless was down again – my apologies to anyone who got a “all circuits are busy” message between Thursday and Saturday. As Andrew the Repairman noted, the repairs were made before he arrived, so he deduced – based on the number of trucks he’d seen on the dyke road – that there was a problem elsewhere.

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