THERE’S NO “WE” IN “I”

A few weeks ago TLW (The Little Woman) informed me that: “we have to paint #2 Son’s room.” This job that we have to do is very difficult, tiring, time consuming. It requires hiring an excavating Company, and an archeologist just in case.

The first thing to tackle is the ceiling, and because winter is coming, I thought I’d give it two coats. I started yesterday and finished this morning, and now we have to dismantle the walls. This will require removing a few “Workers” posters, pictures of Lenin and Che, Fidel and Mao, leaders of the “workers” world. I am hoping that #2 Son becomes a “Worker” and works more than 2 half days a weekend. It’s not the time you put in, but the fervor according to Hugo Chavez the Second!

Whenever I get to start on one of these projects, it usually means a whole lot of preparation, which includes: cleaning, dusting, vacuuming and moving furniture, it requires finding and placing drop cloths over the furniture and on the floor. It means not only the work, also the cleaning up and putting away, I mean, I hate this job!

I have to get the young revolutionary to pick up this workers cause, man the paintbrush and overcome the oppression of the upper class (TLW), and liberate me from the physical exhaustion.

When my Dad was dying, he called TLW to his deathbed and told her she had to carry on the tradition of “supervisor”, after all he would no longer be around to tell me what to do, and being how TLW is good at it, she could take on his responsibilities when ever I had work to do.

Last night was reminiscent of years gone by when Dad would leave me in charge and he would go get some coffee. He’d come back and start his inspection. Well TLW came home last night and did her check. I asked her how we did, and she said: “Good!”

Back in the early 90’s or maybe late 80”s TLW and I decided to have the house exterior resided. The siding was begun by professionals during the week and stopped for the weekend. I decided to have some fun with Dad, and told my parents to come over. He didn’t know about the siding and I grabbed a carpenter’s apron and a hammer and met him at the driveway looking like I was putting up the siding. He comes over and says to me: “What are you doing?” I tell him I’m putting up siding for the house, and he taps it with his fingers and says: “It’s too loose.”