By twelve-thirty, I’d painted the largest kitchen wall “Verdicchio.” It looks so clean. And I cleaned everything—like all the bottles of oil, vinegar, syrup and booze, and all my appliances, and the shelving as I put the kitchen back in order.
I filled all the holes and sanded places that needed it and got all the surfaces in order before I painted, and the perfectly flat texture is part of the beauty of painting.
In the afternoon, I started on a prime living room wall. Like so many time-consuming tasks, such as weeding the miles of space between the paving stones of my courtyard, the painting I’m doing is not something anyone’s going to notice. But I will see it and appreciate it for a long time.
The living room work involved a lot of cleaning of cables and cords behind the television, and all the shelf surfaces, as well as all the filling, sanding, priming and painting. I repaired a wall burned in a tiny fire last year, replaces plates where plugs go into sockets and behind light switches.
I was still at work at seven pm, when the power went out. I lit candles and lanterns and kept at it. True: As I entered the garage to get the generator going at eight-thirty, the power came back on. I was extremely happy; the generator is super noisy.
I went back to painting and didn’t stop until eleven at night, knowing that today and tomorrow were going to be gorgeous and that Sheba and I would want to do a lot of walking. And by eleven-thirty, I was in the spa with my head back, counting shooting stars.
I’m going into the village this morning, after I walk Her Highness, and getting more paint. I’m going to paint my entire “grand room” (foyer, living room, dining room, kitchen, office) and my bedroom. I’ve removed all the “bunny” and “leprechaun” light plates I inherited, and all the little holes and flaws in the walls will be gone when I’m done.