Homebodies - When doing a job...


By Rita Friesen

Neepawa Banner & Press

Echoes of the old adage, one of my mother’s favourite’s, ran through my head as I contemplated a dreaded task. Painting the interior of the attached garage.

Wanted to get it done, not do it. It’s hard work. The prepping is what I don’t like doing. And I did not want to do it when it was plus 30 in the shade with a humidex that defied logic.

The day was cool. I had the paint at home, and the brushes and the rollers and the tray and the painter’s tape. I had already swept the floors and wiped down the walls. No valid reason not to start. And so I did.

The walls have been panelled, the kind with all the depressed and depressing lines. Thankfully the fuzzy roller brush was able to competently penetrate the grooves. A reason to not complain. I had heeded expert advice and was using an oil base primer, a stain blocker. It stinks. The doors were partially open and a wonderful breeze wafted through regularly. Another reason to not complain. I was edging white paint to a white ceiling, well, a dirty white ceiling, and there were very few telltale marks where I edged too close. No complaints here either.

All told, the project went wonderfully well. The garage has seen better days, the back wall at one point had been nudged several inches off base. Thankfully my handy person sledged it back, one inch at a time. The concrete has heaved. Not my fault, close to the tracks and no re-bar to tie it together. That project scares me! The new door, replacing the one I backed into, is pretty. It needed better surroundings, and so I was prompted to paint.

A job well done

In just a few hours the place looked much better, and that is just with the undercoat. Imagine what she will look like with her party dress! I debated with myself whether I needed to paint the west wall, the one with the garage door and the cables and the opener and the people door and all the mounts. I don’t see that wall when I walk into the garage. I don’t see that wall when I go to the car. But it is there. I see it when I leave the place. And it needed paint as well. That little wall took as long to paint as the open long wall did. And truthfully I did not paint the area above the garage door. Don’t look.

  I had walked the dogs, I had undercoated the garage, I had run errands. It was a very good day. Even swabbed the floors and tidied the counters. I wanted more. The air was cool and pleasant, my chores were all well done, and so I wheeled the bike out of the back garage and headed out. Folks are used to seeing me walking, with my dogs, not biking. We had new points of conversation.

Back to the adage, ‘when doing a job, do it with might. Things done half way are never done right.’ No half ways today!