Blue was the color of my true love's house
As you may remember, Tuesday was cool and overcast. The meteoroligists all over the eastern seaboard warned, "Hey, it's gonna rain later. I mean, look how overcast it is even now. Don't do anything stupid, like painting your house on a day like today." Alas, the crew hired by my oft-confused landlady apparently had no access to radio, television, newspaper or the ability to look at the sky and draw a conclusion. So they set to work, painting the facade of the house in the loud blue paint that has become synonomous with 'home' to me, since the last place I lived was also doused in this blue stuff.

And of course, as night fell, so came the rains. Paint dribbled down the side of the building, collecting all over the front stoop and area-way. Paint and dead leaves stopped up the drain inside our gate door, where blue water pooled. Those of you fortunate enough to have visited my abode will recall our front doors are rather small and poorly placed. Getting in the house, even on a good day, can be a challenge. So pretty much everyone who came into our house ended up getting blue paint on himself. Even Mr. Bones seems to be sporting a blue badge of ineptitude now (harder to tell on the darker cats).

For the next three days, rain came steadily. The paint steaked the front of the house; the neighbors mocked us. Well, they mock us anyway, but this time I felt they had a point. On Saturday, we awaken to find the same goofballs who thought rain-painting was a good idea readying some loud equipment to remove the paint. They covered the doors and windows with tarps and started blasting the paint off.

Paint flew everywhere. It got on the neighbors house. It got on the neighbors van (at least his van is blue). It got all over the sidewalk and it dripped down the cellar door into the basement. I spent five minutes explaining to the guy why he had to do something to keep the paint from running into the basement. Worse still, we realized we were essentially trapped inside the house. Even if we could get the imbeciles' attention to stop spraying the house, venturing outside would mean plodding through a pile of paint chips and dodging paint falling from the building. Happily, they left at nightfall.

We slipped around our blue moat and discovered we had a new house. Gone was the blue eyesore that helped identify our home to many a weary traveler and pizza deliveryman.Our house is now bare brick. I am now hoping the novelty of feeling like we have an entirely new house will sustain me through the rest of these poorly-executed renovations. If I am able to leave the house today I will take some pictures of my new home.

Posted By Jimmy Legs | Non-PermaLink