Dirty on White

Me: Yeah, what do you think about that one? She’s pretty cute.

Old Man: Oh, yeah, she’s pretty damn cute. And friendly, too.

Me: So, you think she puts out?

Old Man, deep in thought: You know, she does have those horny eyes.

Me: I thought I was the only one who saw that.


If you hadn’t noticed before, if I haven’t already become a dirty old man, I’m well on my way.


Anyway, I’ve been in the process of painting my bedroom. I started the project three weeks ago. On my way in to work this morning I heard an old clip of my favorite morning DJs (they’re on vacation). The one was telling of how he will paint the room, wait an hour, paint again, wait another hour, and then put the last coat on. The other had a different view on painting. “It’s not the painting that I mind, it’s all the damn work!” This, my friends, is pretty much my philosophy too. The actual painting of the ceiling was fast and simple. Painting the trim took a little longer. Now just the walls are left. I bought some of the roughage that you mix with the paint to give it some texture. Once I got the roughage home I started to freak out. What if it didn’t blend in well? What if I put too much in the paint can? What if I accidentally got my head lodged in the container and I was forced to inhale the roughage? So the paint for the walls sat in another room right next to the roughage for a good week. Then, on Saturday night, the Renter got ambitious. Wait, I should say Saturday morning as it was after midnight and I was well passed out. She mixed the paint, grabbed the roller and pan, and went to town. You would figure that having painted many-a-room she’d be somewhat experienced at it. You would figure. When I woke up Sunday morning I inspected her handiwork. But it wasn’t the handiwork that caught my attention, it was the footiwork. At some point while she was painting she must have stepped in the paint and then tramped it all around the room, grinding it in to my WHITE carpeting. “What, I paint your room for you and all you can do is complain about some spots on the carpet?” Uh, yeah, I do believe I have that right. Fuck.


So, what do I do when I'm slightly perturbed?