I called the body shop this morning to confirm that our car would be ready for pickup today. Then we went to the house to see what was happening. We called it right yesterday; the painter’s truck was parked in front of our house.
There were five or six men in the house. One was removing doors, this one is on the pantry.
Another was taping plastic on the windows in the breakfast nook.
He had finished Andy’s office. They had opened all the windows in the house and then taped over them. They cut holes in the open section to allow some air movement through the house.
There was so much going on that we decided to get out of the way. We couldn’t go out the laundry room to the garage as this man was painting in the tight spaces.
All the paint buckets and compressor were stationed at the front door.
This young man was sweeping up dirt and debris along the garage wall.
We drove to the post office to ship ten copies of Big Creek to the Big Creek Country Store and one to Nigel Fields in The Great Smoky Mountains National Park. Then we drove straight to the Mellow Mushroom in Mount Dora for a pizza lunch. It was not our usual festive occasion. We talked about the video of Charlottesville and our fears of what awful things may transpire before all is said and done. I feel dreadful. People I know, respect, and love are facing so much hate directed at them. It is ugly and senseless.
We got our car back at the body shop and then stopped at the house on the way home (to the motorhome). The buckets and compressor had moved to the front door. There were two compressors running there.
The garage floor had been covered with plastic and a coat of white paint was on the block walls.
The center of the dining room was lined with bi-fold closet doors.
The front door and side lights were covered with plastic. Hey, I don’t see the orange port-a-potty out front. The walls were painted gray. It is a lighter gray than it looks in this picture.
The family room was also lined with doors and a man was spray painting them white. He was wearing a respirator. It amazed me how fast he went.
All those doors were quite a sight.
I found this fellow standing on a bucket and painting the horizontal corners in the hallway. The color looked very dark. He said it was because it was wet. It would look lighter, like the family room, when it dried. Then he told me that the guys were admiring the gray color. It has multiple personalities. Some blue. Some blah. And a bit of pink. That takes a steady hand.
I watched the door painter in the dining room. He painted three bi-fold doors in less than sixty seconds. I like the bright white color. I’ve always had natural wood doors and cabinets and think I am going to enjoy white.
Outside the front door, the compressor hose was sticking in the paint bucket sucking up gray paint.
Again, we left to get out of their way and out of the paint fumes. We went back around six o’clock and the painter’s truck was still parked in front of the house. But, there were no painters in sight. Here is my living room/den/parlor. I haven’t quite figured it out exactly. It depends on how the furniture fits in there. I noticed that they had not painted the pocket doors yet.
We went through the garage and saw the ghost of painters past in the corner. The coveralls were hanging on the pipes for the water heater.
The family room looked like some sort of modern art display.