Greetings, my fellow port swillers!

Those of you hanging on every pixel in the post immediately below will be pleased to learn that Ol’ Robbo successfully completed the big bedroom painting project. Not only that, I received a genuine “It looks fantastic!” from Mrs. R upon her final inspection. (My dread of getting “You missed a spot”-ed caused me to slap on an extra coat, just to make sure.) And since the whole thing is essentially my anniversary present to her this year, all is well.

But my stars, what a job it turned out to be! That creaking and groaning that you may be picking up on your laptop speakers is coming from what’s left of my joints and muscles, mostly in my fingers, knees and thighs. “Body all achin’ and wracked with pain” as the song says, indeed.*** No one bit of pushing or pulling, lifting or stretching, crawling or slithering (while dealing with baseboards), wiping and scraping, was a thing in and of itself, but two solid days of constant repetition of all these tasks soon added up. I may be getting too old for this sort of thing.

And as for the catastrophes mentioned in teh update to my first post, I did, in fact, slip on the ladder once. I didn’t step in the paint tray, but when I slipped I banged a full can against the side of the ladder, thus glooping myself pretty thoroughly. And while I didn’t actually paint the cat, she snuck in while I wasn’t looking and jumped up on a freshly-painted windowsill, then left little white pawprints on the wall as I shooed her away in wrath.

But never mind: It’s done and done.

*** “Old Man River”. But I’m virtually positive the expression entered the family lexicon of my yoot via the character of Emmy Schmaltz from the old Moon Mullins comic strip, of which we had a collection. Her signature line was “I’ll smack your sassy face!” That made it into family talk as well. Yes, we were kinda eccentric.