Pinkicide

Tuesday August 15, 2006

I was a man with a mission today. The elimination of pink. Expinkivation, you could call it.

When I got to the house I brewed coffee, set up the computer, and uploaded the journal entry using my dial-up connection which was buried under layers of broadband software, including what seems to be a whole new copy of the browser, one which I heartily dislike.

Then, picking up my faithful paintbrush, I bounded up the stairs to the top storey and marched into the last of the rooms—the ghastly pink one. Perhaps bounding is a bit of an overstatement. Since working in the house day after day, though, I’ve become accustomed to walking right the way up in one go, needing the bannisters for reassurance only. Coming down is still something I take very carefully. My knees don’t like walking down stairs.

“Right,” I said, addressing the pink, “now you’re gonna get yours.”

And I set to, applying the undercoat of ‘one coat’ paint over the pink and banishing it, strip by strip, to an uncomfortable memory. I stuck to it until I’d finished the long wall and the window wall, taking only a very short break between the two of them. Then I took my lunch and returned, to tackle the remaining two walls. I got them done, with two short breaks, but I confess I was slowing down very noticeably towards the end.

It was a few minutes after six in the evening before I washed the last of the paint from the brush and set it to dry ready for tomorrow’s work. I’d promised Graham progress photos, though, so I took the camera up to record the work.

I didn’t get too much done after I’d driven back to the caravan of course. I was whacked. I had a pint of Theakston’s, closely followed by my dinner, and then I collapsed on the sofa to sleep the rest of the evening away until Graham arrived in the small hours.

Broadband didn’t get a look-in, I’m afraid. My mission for the day took priority, and just about all my time and energy. I did take a peak at the hub and noted that it seems to be happily doing broadband things with the exchange, if the indicator lights are telling me the truth. I’ll get to sorting the beast out on Thursday.

Tomorrow is another mission day. Tomorrow we shall, between us, finish the painting project off, Graham applying the top coat in the living room and me in the ex-pink room. Then we’ll wash out the brushes for the final time and tidy the decorating supplies and equipment away. Perhaps even clean the kitchen, which has been the seat of operations throughout and is now in need of kitchen cleaner and elbow grease.

Today, though, was the day on which I committed pinkicide. All the horrid colours we inherited from the previous owners are eliminated. I feel better for that.

 

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