Home Improvement NFS--Installment Two

Today is Thursday. I have been here at my sister's house, attempting to address the task at hand, since Monday. In three days, mostly what we've managed to accomplish is an amassing of more materials that we have yet to employ. There has been a lot of shopping for paint, paneling, trim and peripherals (with side trips to thrift stores, craft stores and other assorted attention diverters, since we can't seem to leave the house without being drawn to our favorite retail therapy haunts like steel to a magnet.)

The first two days, mostly what we did was walk through the target work area umpteen times, discussing designs, plans and methods. Picture three adults (my sister, myself and the intrepid allergic-to-home-improvement husband) packed in to the bathroom like sardines in a can; sister and me mapping out our strategy, and BIL glued to our heels, regaling us with a constant stream of man-around-the-house advice. He had no plan to pick up a hammer or a paint brush, but he felt obliged to tell us exactly how we should proceed. Ad infinitum.

We finally did go out and purchase the wainscot paneling (probably the only major part of the project that has not been lying around my sister's house for years), which we then had to cut and prime. This was the only actual work we accomplished in the first two days; probably an investment of about six hours total. But for the entire time my sister and I were engaged in this labor, her husband yammered on about what we HAD TO do an how we HAD TO do it. Sister has developed a habit of pretending to listen to him while she...doesn't. I have not got that talent. He was driving me c-r-a-z-y. He hovered around us like a yellow jacket at a picnic. I so wanted to hit him with a shoe. But fear of the sting dissuaded me from action--I was in no way desirous of starting up a "family incident" (been there, done that...!)

By Tuesday evening, BIL was getting pissier and pissier, probably because he knew we were not really listening to him, and had no intention of acting on 95% of the advice he was spouting. Finally, even my sister got fed up with him, and then the fireworks went off. I thought about grabbing my shoe and joining in the battle, but on second thought decided that my other method of dealing with yellow jackets at picnics would probably be the wiser choice: Drop the chicken and run like hell!

Looks like it is time to sidle up to the Day Four of the job. Maybe we'll actually get some hammer-amd-nailing done today. Watch this space for the update...