Doing what I can

Wednesday August 9, 2006

To Taunton, to pick up the new blinds for the study, and for me to be lodged in a corner of the seating area outside Starbucks while Graham disappeared on a mystery shoppping expedition. Significant and pointed hints had been issued, along with a plea not to spend too long on the exercise so he was back quick as quick, clutching three large cardboard tubes containing the blinds and a suspiciously bulging shoulder bag. As an indication of our heightened sense of urgency, he declined an offer of a second mug of coffee and off we whisked to the car park and then out along the direct road to Bridgwater.

We had our second mugs of coffee when we got to the house and then a small hurricane got to work, wielding a large paint brush and a lot of determination. Graham had decided that he’d paint the living room walls today and paint the living room walls he did.

I’d taken myself up to the back bedroom and was happily working away on the single wall I’d decided was my task for the day, about two thirds of the way through, when I heard footsteps on the staircase, and Graham appeared, produced his paint bucket and brush, and joined me to finish the job.

So, the living room has had all its walls painted with ‘one coat’, completely obliterating the dark red and covering the dingy cream above, all ready for a top coat of ordinary emulsion on Graham’s next visit. One wall of the back bedroom has been similarly treated and I’m left with seven walls to do.

“I wish I had another day or two to join you,” Graham said as we munched our late lunch at the little table in the dining nook. “We’d finish the whole lot between us then and you could get on the phone to Pickford’s to kick them into action.”

“You really are in a hurry, aren’t you.”

“Yup. I want this job done and us moved in as soon as we can possibly do it.”

“Ah well. The weather’s cooling down for a few days now so I’ll be able to work a little faster. I’ll keep plugging away at it.”

“Don’t go over-doing it. You’ve done a great job of pacing yourself all the way through and it’d be silly to spoil it when we’re so close to the finish line.”

“I’ll do what I can.”

I shall, too. Pacing has been vital throughout and never more so now that I’m in the final stage of the project. There’s always a danger that as the end approaches the temptation to move faster and work harder will lead to a lack of caution. It’s beginning to look as if this time next week I shall be ready to phone the removal firm and get our moving-in day fixed. Meantime, I shall soldier on at my own pace, slow as it is, doing what I can.



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