The topic may have come up from time to time.
And I came by my attitude quite honestly. If you spend 45-50 hours a week working, plus a frustrating 2 hour/day commute, would you rather be handed a beer when you get home or a paintbrush? One alternative suggests appreciation; the other just says “quit your bitching and get at that cove molding. Neatly, damn you!”
I never formally swore never to look at another cutting brush as long as I lived once I became single again, but the intention was implicit. Which is why I was so surprised to find myself doing exactly that nine years ago when the cabin’s first siding and trim were at last complete and in need of paint. I’ve noted before that the Secret Lair started as one thing and sort-of ended as another because the project became ever more complex as the years passed. Unlike the cove molding, it became something I actually cared about.
Now we’re pretty much in the maintenance-only phase, and I find to my surprise that, though I still think painting is one of the more tedious activities mankind ever cursed himself with, I really don’t mind doing it.
I detest painting. In a moment of weakness, I volunteered to paint a friggin’ wooden picnic table for someone physically incapable of doing it. Do you have any idea how many surfaces there are on a picnic table? I was quite thorough. Took for-evar. It became a Zen-like experience after my will to live was destroyed. Not fun, but oddly calming. Inner peace via painting. Then again, it coulda been the fumes.
I look at painting – the actual brush / roller work, not the demanding pre-painting prep – as a form of therapy: It doesn’t require very many actively engaged IQ points to do, the very noticeable transformation is comforting, and when complete provides a reassuring sense of accomplishment.
Other than all that, I think painting completely sucks and I hate doing it.
Can’t you get Tobie to do the painting for you? Probably use a LOT more paint, and be less attractive, but hey, you’re a desert hermit!
Edward: Yeah, I did have a sense of accomplishment and was rather proud of managing to cover every nook and cranny. Unfortunately, everything peeled off by the next summer. Some actual painters saw it and asked what pre-treatment I used. Uh, pre-treat? Sigh.