Anticipating the dried paint
The standard warning applies: be careful what you ask for. In my case, I wasn’t asked, and I didn’t ask, and the day took a very different direction for the rest of the family.
Son #2 is very close to being independent. The new address is known, but the paint isn’t dry. After all, when you decide that the whole place requires a team effort with rollers and latex, that’s a calculated result. I sent over ventilation fans with a delivery friend, so the choice of paint cannot be without odour.
The furniture will follow.
Meanwhile, I became the designated dogsitter. She who barks has been here since daylight. Never far from my side. Ready to assist with any moment of possible nourishment (pea soup; bring it on, big guy). And when things get quiet (boring), there’s always the other side of the door to investigate.
Actually, she’s pretty good company. No comments about my moments of singing, or my fill commentary on protocol lapses on TV. Did you realize that a royal visit coupled with a national holiday means a fairly eclectic musical interlude? No need to join 300, 000 people dressed in red to enjoy the talent.
I even watched a documentary on other royal visits through the years. Back to when the photographers followed on a later train with darkrooms, in order to assure “up to the minute” coverage. OK, up to the week… clocks probably ran slower back then.
The effort to present the Queen Mother as the hottie of another age was an interesting break with reality. I may start reading steampunk.
