Why put off until tomorrow…

… what you can put off until September?

Back in the late spring, when everything was in lockdown, I sent this photo to a bloke I know who, amongst other things, is a professional house painter (more interior than exterior).

As I believe I’ve mentioned before, back when Mike and I had the house painted, we had to go for the cheapest option, which meant absolutely everything being the same colour. I quite like the grey, but it’s a bit unremitting, ergo the decision a couple of years ago to paint the woodwork on the downstairs porch white.

This did brighten things up a bit, but also highlighted how desperately the frame of the upstairs window needed to be painted white, too. Not a job I felt up to ever tackling. Then it occurred to me: Wait a minute, I know a professional house painter who currently can’t go into people’s homes to paint due to the pandemic.

So I sent him that photo and this message:

I hope you won’t be insulted that I’m asking you about such a small (albeit finicky) job.

 If you’re still not able to get back to work fully, would you consider tackling the job of painting the upper window frames of my house white? I have the paint; I just don’t have a tall enough ladder (or a head for heights).

He got back to me and asked me how high up the windows are. Told him I have absolutely no ability to judge distances or heights, but I’d guess twenty feet. He came round to have a look, said he’d need a twenty-five-foot ladder (which he doesn’t have). My ladder is only sixteen feet. Apparently you can rent a twenty-five-foot ladder from the local hardware store. Okay, a bit of logistics involved. Rent ladder. Arrange for someone who owns a truck to transport ladder to house. (Sounds like a job for Dave or Charlie.) We came inside, had a cup of tea. He gave me a quote and told me he could do the job the following Tuesday.

I was so excited.

The next morning, before I could start organising the ladder rental and transport, I found an email waiting for me. It seems my painter had decided on reflection, having managed to go his whole life without breaking his back falling off a twenty-five-foot ladder, that now was not the time for said accident. He was therefore respectfully declining the job.

Phooey. What a fucking wuss. (Okay, okay, I did totally understand, but I was also totally gutted.)

All right, I thought, choking back my disappointment, is there anything I can do to brighten the house up a bit? Well, I could finish painting the porch woodwork. Better than nothing, I suppose.

That was in early June. Of course it rained for pretty much the entire month and Juneuary did roll half way through July. Not good for exterior painting. What about August, you ask? What indeed. Never mind.

Today I finally got the ladder out and voila!

Yeah, I know. Not much of a voila really, is it? Okay, it’s a bit brighter, but, let’s face it, not much. I did consider carrying on and painting the panel between to two floors, but horizontal stripes are meant to be so unflattering. Plus, I don’t know, it just felt a bit desperate.

It’s obvious what the house really needs. It needs the frames of the upper windows to be painted white. Unfortunately, if I can’t persuade a six foot six professional painter to get up on a ladder and do the job, I’m fucked.

(Quietly sheds a tear and pours herself a drink.)