Shoddy Work
I hallelujahed too soon. The rains returned and with them the blue tarps, and all the complications of hiding from the wet and working in 100% humidity. The primer, for one, that Matt and I applied to the back side of the cedar siding never dried, leaving us and our tools covered in white paint. Mark Queijo, reading this as he always does at 6AM, just woke up. He knows that one of those so-called “our tools,” is his chop saw and aluminum stand. Think of it this way Mark, what was black is now white.
Matt’s school year ended Wednesday, and Thursday there he was under tarps, with hammer in hand, nailing siding I cut to length. His help sped the process immensely and when we finished for the day, I stood back and said, “Look at all we’ve done.” To which he replied, “What do you mean, we?”
But before we got to the stand back and admire stage, well into the part of the day where mistakes are made (concerned reader alert, he still has all of his fingers), I heard him groan. To which I responded, what’s up? I envisioned siding that didn’t join at the corner boards, or a crack in the nearby glass of the bay window. He replied, “Oh, nothing.” I said, “what do you mean ‘Oh, nothing?’ ” We all know teenagers, words arrive in packet-fashion, as if transmitted by a 1200 baud modem. I should have left it at that but I continued to pry until he muttered, “Shoddy cutting.” I then yelled, “What do you mean, shoddy cutting.” But this time he really was finished talking. I accepted it as time to replace the blade on Mark’s chop saw. Maybe I can get Mark to buy a new one. How about if I clean off the white paint?
How cute is my boy!
Comment by Auntiesue — June 19, 2003 @ 9:48 am
As one of the benefactors of all this dedicated labor, I have to say it’s thrilling to see our “framing project” becoming an actual part of the house. Installing the glass was the first big step, the roof the second, but somehow the siding makes this take an even more enormous step towards finished legitimacy. And if Matthew acquires a broody, handsome dust-jacket portrait for when he writes his therapeutic tell-all memoirs eviscerating his father for a lifetime of such abusive enthusiasm, well that’s just gravy.
Comment by Adam — June 20, 2003 @ 6:50 am
I love the picture of Matt. Can we have a hard copy?
Comment by Mom — June 22, 2003 @ 4:39 pm
We have one. It gets up late, sits with us at dinner and can almost always be found in bed sometime after midnight.
Comment by Michael — June 22, 2003 @ 5:06 pm