Belated Weekend Report
My weekend report’s a little late, but that’s because I spent Sunday stripping wallpaper for eight hours. This taught me two things.
A) hanging wallpaper should be banned by the Geneva Convention
B) never ever strip wallpaper for eight hours
Unfortunately I get into this kind of intense fugue state and the end result was that I didn’t really feel the time passing until Kevin dragged me out of the room before I killed myself and/or missed Venture Brothers.* It’s this nasty vinyl wallpaper, great for a kid’s room because it’s easy to clean, but nearly impossible to get off, because even with the little puncture-y dealy, the wallpaper stripper won’t soak through worth a damn (and if it does, you have to push so hard with the scraper that you wind up taking chunks of wallboard out with it.) So you have to strip the vinyl bit off by hand, and then the paper backing comes right off with goop. It was sort of viscerally satisfying, rather like peeling a giant scab off the room, but still…eight hours.
I turned to Kevin at one point, bits of wallpaper stuck to most of my available surfaces, and said “We are never, EVER, buying a fixer-upper.”
“Oh god no!” He surveyed the wreckage. “Or if we do, we’re making sure they include enough money to hire somebody to do this…”
Any concern about the kids’ reaction to the changes was blunted when his ten-year-old walked into the wallpaper war zone, surveyed the scene, and said, with great satisfaction “I’ve hated this wallpaper since I was…mmm….four.”
Damn straight.
There were other amusements to the weekend, but the wallpaper largely consumed my brain. Spent Thursday night at the club dancing (i.e. doing something that resembled the mating dance of the Really Really White Crane.) Friday night both of us were wiped out, so we ordered pizza. Kevin came up to the bedroom holding two Dominoes boxes and said “How slack are you feeling?”
So we wound up eating pizza out of the box, on the bed, while watching Pitch Black (I have converted Kevin to the Church of Vin Diesel.) This pleases me. I’d hate to give up my bachelor lifestyle completely.
Saturday I went to a football game–his brother-in-law is a coach, and they were playing somebody in Durham. I don’t know crap about football, nor do I particularly care, so I passed the time with his sister-in-law admiring the quality of male ass on the field. (WHAT? The stands are right behind the benches! They all stand around with their backs to you! Wearing spandex! What can you do?!)
And then Sunday…there was the wallpaper thing.
Monday morning I was sore. I am still a little sore. I don’t think I was cut out for the hardcore DIY lifestyle. Once I get the studio repainted, I’m done for a little bit.
Well, okay, once I get the studio and that awful uterus-pink dining room repainted…
*I think this might have scared him more than Anthrocon. I get a little alarming when in the grip of obsession, probably because it’s so obvious that I will not eat, sleep, or visit the bathroom unless prompted by outside forces. He did exactly the right thing, which was get out of my way, and I think we had dinner at some point, but it’s a little hazy…
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