Ah the sweet smell of ammonia success! The Taylor Swift marathon proved too much for the raccoon. Our neighborhood pet pest removed himself from the chimney. I’m moving on with the fireplace project without cage, capture, or release.
Today, I bought paint for the inside brick. Scratch that. Today, I bought paint twice for the inside brick. The first time, Bacon convinced me that high heat spray paint would be quick and painless. I knew better. After we got home with the rattle can, I took a look at the proscenium. That’s a college word (borrowed from the theatre) for picture frame.
“How the heck am I going to keep paint off of the brick?”
“You can mask it with something.”
“What?”
“I don’t know. Paper. Tape.”
I dragged him out to the front porch, where two years ago I spray painted wrought iron columns.
“See that?” I pointed to a black gash on the concrete. “Two years ago, I covered the porch with tape and paper. You complained about it that day. The mark is still there. Why do I let you bully me into buying the cheapest thing?”
“I did not bully you.”
“You did.”
At this point, Bacon did something miraculous. He quit arguing and left home to run an errand. I took the rattle can back to Home Depot and exchanged it for a quart of brush-on High Heat Rustoleum.
Bacon came home with flowers. Happy Valentine’s Day!
CRISPLY SPOKEN 