Blast from the past...

Happy August!

Now, I'm not doing this because I am lazy. No, really. Seriously. I have a method to my madness this time. In order to make a larger point in my next blog, I need to take you back seven years to May 1998. Back then, I had a weekly column for the Northwest Herald and I devoted one missive to my account of Mary and Mark's first joint home improvement project: Painting the basement.

My usual attempts at Thurberian embellishments aside, it is pretty close to a detailed, factual representation of every married couple's (or, at least, husband's) worst nightmare. Enjoy! And come back Friday for the sequel!


Mark


From 1998:
Those home improvement shows on TV represent the single, greatest threat to any marriage.

I stumbled onto this fact on my third day of being a homeowner, in hour No. 3 of the six-hour basement-painting marathon, just as we were renouncing our wedding vows.

Now, who was at fault and why she was at fault is irrelevant. What is important is what we learned from this episode: Namely, that those home shows can lead to far more violence than ‘‘COPS.’’

The scenario is as such: Folks watch these half-hour shows on stations such as cable’s ‘‘The Home & Garden Channel.’’ In less than 30 minutes, the show’s host is able to undertake and complete a project like installing a new foundation to a home or remodeling an entire kitchen. He or she completes the task without breaking a sweat, making any mistakes, or even running to the store, since he or she seemingly has an endless supply of everything needed for such a project.

Now, some people who watch these shows believe they are seeing reality and are inspired by the ease by which these projects can be accomplished. Of course, like most things television, this so-called ‘‘ease’’ is a big, fat lie. They don’t show the show’s staff trudging down to Sear’s Hardware to get all the stuff for the prima donna host. They edit out all the mistakes he or she makes. Make-up artists stand-by between shots to mop the seat from the host's brow. Time-lapse photography makes hours seem like seconds. You cannot, for instance, re-tile an entire shower stall in less than 30 minutes, complete with a catchy show theme and commercials. I’m sorry if I just shattered any illusions out there. My informal poll tells me the viewers are mainly women, but I am sure some guys watch, too, though I’d rather not meet any guy who does

Marital strife occurs when those inspired by these shows drag their unsuspecting spouses into projects better left to professionals. Worse, these same people, even though they’ve never actually undertaken projects themselves, are now instant experts because they saw it done on TV.

This is when good marriages can turn bad.

Now, I had never painted an entire finished basement before Memorial Day. Nor had I previously used a paint-stick. All I knew was that the wife had seen some show where all this was done with ease and she had confirmed the ease in conversations with other women, presumably those who had seen the same show.
And, to be honest, I wanted the basement bar to be another color other than purplish gray, which is, by the way, a very strange color to paint an entire basement. This does make me a willing accessory to the entire episode, I admit.

After wasting some time with the wrong paint (bought after consulting with a hardware store employee who answered my query of ‘‘What do you know about paint?’’ with ‘‘Everything!’’ which also turned out to be a lie) we began our respective tasks. I was to run the paint-stick roller while she taped and trimmed.
Covering purplish gray with antique white is probably not the best of ideas but darned if I was was gonna put a primer coat down over the entire basement. So, as I gained experience confidence with the paint stick, I gradually came to the conclusion that most areas were gonna have to take two coats. Also, I learned paint looks less even until it dries, when all artistic ills seemingly evaporate.

As I toiled, my expert spouse made several comments (‘‘It doesn’t look even....’’ ‘‘Maybe if you painted more slowly....’’ ‘‘You are destroying the entire basement, you moron!’’ ‘‘As God is my witness, you will rot in Hades, you bumbling jerk!’’ Or something to that effect...) that eventually pushed me over the edge.

‘‘I never said I was the best painter,’’ I finally yelled. ‘‘I said I was the best painter YOU could afford.’’

Hours later, I realized I had subconsciously stolen that line from my father, having found himself in a similar confrontation with his own painting expert.

Eventually, we were done. I noticed that my expert’s high painting standards seemed to subside once she finished the taping and actually began to trim and realize how hard it is to cover purplish gray with antique white.

We resolved – for the sake of our marriage – to never undertake such a project again – at least not together. The basement looks great, though. In fact, maybe we’ll find that spare half-hour this weekend to remodel the kitchen...