Back from the trip and experiencing the usual mixed feelings. Happy for a shower and loud guitar, but already missing the travel state of mind. Unfortunately, I won’t be describing work trips and things like that on here, even though they’re way more interesting, probably, than the usual.

I will say that everything went well. The feeling of getting important things done is rejuvenating and motivating and it had definitely been too long. Despite some back aches and the occasional stressor, I spent most of the time in a good zone feeling more myself than I have for months and months. Having multiple employers is great because you can pit the strengths and weaknesses of both postions against each other and end up winning, mostly.

Once home, I was disoriented by having so little to do. You know how that is… walk to the fridge, close fridge, walk to the balcony, close balcony door, walk to computer, not want to turn it on, walk back to fridge…

I had already finished all the documentation and wrap-up stuff, finished the follow-up mails and planned the next steps and put it all in writing. And suddenly, there I was with…  free time. Real free time.

Two days worth.

I don’t do well with idle time. I get a mild panic from the thought of time passing and then guilt of not having done my best with it and letting it just drain away without purpose. I know you guys know what I mean. We have so little prime time, maybe 30 years at most, so every day matters. It makes you want to goof off less and do more because it’ll all be over soon enough, so why let it go in a haze, phase or daze. Smiles are good. Ecstasy is great but only when experienced in extreme moderation to keep it ecstatic, and the rest of the time is awesome-as-fuck intensity doing good shit. Fuck mediocrity and fuck decadence and pillow life. Since when was decadence a good word? It just makes you shake your head and laugh, before filling with the sort of rage that results in whole fists going through whole bodies.

You know what I mean? Sweat and blood and stay away if you don’t want any of mine to get on you while I do my shit, right?

And so, before I had really planned anything out, suddenly the sleeves were rolled up, shorts were on,  furniture was being moved and drop cloths and paint cans were out and popping open. The air took a nice artsy/crafty scent and, with the Falconer discography playing in the background (it’s pretty good except for when it gets show-tuney which is a total turnoff), I went to work.

I moved stuff all around and then totally transformed their characteristics. The table shown on the left here used to be semi-rectangular and a dark, polished wood color.  See the jumble of stuff in the corner? White standing desk, white stools and white rocking chair frame? That all took about half a can of white enamel paint as a final coat.

WP: Hi there.

OD: Yes?

WP: Hi. So, I’m sitting around, skinning over and I was wondering if you could maybe take me out and use me more?

OD: Well, I love what you’ve done for my previous boring stuff. What the heck! Pick you up in 5.

Aside from paint can taunts, I’m not sure what the urge really is or where it comes from. Is it a desire for uniformity? Is it just that I want everything changed? Does it actually look better all matching?

No idea. It’s probably just the desire to do something. If I had my own house it’d be a new skylight, or vestibule or expanded bathroom. But here in Condoville, whether you own the place (probably next year) or not, creative environmental control is a bit more limited.

But all of that was out of mind. Everything was out of mind and all that was important was what was in hand. A big, bristly, crusty multi-colored old brush, and a giant can of white semi-gloss paint. Let’s go. Table top? Conquered. Pah-shaw. Piece of cake.

 

The couch frame was a much more intensive job.

The paint wouldn’t stick at all (because I don’t prime, priming is for weaklings)(yes, I’m an idiot) so I had to really slather it on there. It took about four coats and a couple hours. It was very streaky and annoying work, but I was pretty determined to win. I never liked this frame much and the more the color changed, the thicker the white became and the older it made the thing look, the more tolerable it became. I stayed in the fight, though resistance was pretty fierce.

Shoulders sore, eyes stingy, I kept at it. Layer after layer. Submit motherfucker. You have no chance here. You will be completely dominated by my aesthetic ridiculousness.

OK, some of you are already wondering how this was possible with my broken back discs. I know. It would seem unlikely, but, frozen vegetables go a long way. I also held a posture that would have looked completely absurd were there anyone else around, including lying on my side or chest while painting. I did the rungs of the back support while squatting on the bottom frame.

Nearly finished here on the left. Leave the drawers the natural wood color or paint them, too?

I had to think about it. Back to you drawer resisters later. But in the meantime I discovered a MAJOR problem. I looked over at the newly painted round table (NPRT) and realized the height was pretty messed up… and I had no chairs that would make it useable for eating.

The stools, though matching perfectly, are too tall. A seated person would have to slouch over to eat anything, and for broken back discs like mine it would just be impossible anyway.

I had a set of four wrought iron chairs on the balcony that used to go with a glass dining table I got off Craigslist. The glass was always too wide and took up too much space. It served as a sort of weird desktop for a while, not too bad, but in the last half year has been up against a wall.

Anyway, the chairs! I put them next to the NPRT and… nope. (Evidence at right.)

Too short. The table would be at bib level. Good for soup, bad for everything else, especially for feeling like an adult while eating dinner.

Hmmmm.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

HMMMMMMM.

 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Hmmm?

HOLY.

Hmm beeeeeee booooooo badadada lalalala

LALALALALALALALALA

Perfect height. For eating, drinking, writing, reading, chatting… add any other “ing” you like. I tied them on pretty good, so…

BUT WAIT. What the hell is that??

….

….

This is where too much free time really becomes TOO MUCH free time. Dang, you know, I shouldn’t be left home alone.

Folks, look at the couch. Just look at it.

Look how white it is.

It’s white almost everywhere.

But to the right of it… mmmmmmmm orange.

Orange.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Orange.

Orange.

 
 
 
 
 

Orange.

 
 
 

 
 

Yep.

 

You know what’s coming.

 
 
 
 
 
 

What, you don’t think I would…?

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Boom?

Yeah. I know.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Panic time.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

What the fuck was I thinking? Like I said… I really shouldn’t be left home alone this long. Daaaang.

But since I did the drawers and they kind of stick out now…

 
 
 
 
 

Yep.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Racing armrests.

OK, it’s at this point in an intense, meditative, no-mind “Create my environment! Yay!” session that one takes a step back and realizes that they are completely, totally and nearly saturatedly idiotic.

I mean, I knew that already, but having the colorful evidence around is helpful for confirmation.

<sigh>

Well, now I have a mostly orange and white living room. Sort of neat.

But wait… wait wait wait.

What the hell is that over there?

Those straw colored chair things… they’re so… NOT ORANGE.

…

♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

Yes people. Yes.

 

♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Don’t resist.  It’s happening.

These things were definitely the hardest to paint. First off, I was nervous about using the Electric Orange™ I grabbed for the shelves and couch frame because it’s sort of glossy and I was worried that it would clump up and maybe not cover the weave very well. So I found a spray paint color called “Pumpkin Orange” made by Krylon which seemed pretty close.

I went out to the balcony and had at it with the first one.

The first coat completely vanished into the straw. It was like it was drinking it, actually. So I did another coat and “sluuuurp”, almost no color change at all. Huh. Weird.

But it needed to be conquered. So I went bananas. An entire full size spray can disappeared into the fibers and the result was what you see in this picture… a sort of orange… like a mixed breed orange/straw (“straorange”… probably just better to call it “Strange”, which it surely is.) Also, it took 24 hours to dry completely, which made me pretty nervous for an entire day.

There’s more. Much more. So much more I don’t even know if I should continue describing.

 
 

But to all of you. I don’t really know how to end this post other than by saying it’s been over an hour of writing now and I need to go to bed. Remember one thing: go forth unafraid. Make a mistake and learn from it and paint over it once you know what works. As long as it doesn’t break any hearts or bodies in the process, you’re good. Keep creating.

Be good and you’ll be happier.

Glad to be back, see you tomorrow with answers to your questions about what this is.