Never trust an Expert

The paint I got from the "expert" paint store finally dried some 20+ hours beyond what the writing on the can estimated at a far lower temperature. Nervous even as I slept, I suspected the shade I chose was off. A second coat confirmed my fear. Waiting for it to dry so I could correct it felt like waiting for dead grass to grow. I considered filling the structure with fireworks and gasoline and sending it down the Willamette.

Again, my schedule is now blown but a different shade and a different brand of paint are working out. Of course the second choice turned out to be much cheaper than the first. Someday I am sure a project will arrise in which I use all the valuable lessons I've learned. Likely that will be when I hire out the work!

Given the tediousness of sanding and applying of multiple coats, it would be against my best interest to mow the lawn or otherwise stir up dirt or dust. My limited skills need all the help they can get. Drips, missed patches or strands of brush embedded in my handi-work I can justify, bits of lawn clipping not so much. It is then in the families best interest to attend various holiday weekend bbq's away from project ground zero or simply beat the heat by watching the Tour in the basement to keep me otherwise occupied.

What the...

Seriously, it was hot enough today to fry an egg over-easy in the street but a coat of paint won't dry in 14 hours inside the sweat lodge that is my garage?

BOAT is a four-letter word

The plan was simple and crystal clear in my head. I checked the Internet for expertise, cleaned out the garage, took a deep breath then started chopping up some wood.

Sure-enough, the project I thought would take two weekends and the week in between, is now 2-months over-due, over-budget and the lawn is over-grown.

The last two weeks I've taken an oath to complete only the most necessary of tasks outside of working, eating, sleeping and playing with G-man, in an effort to complete my boat. Which after that list of to-do's leaves roughly 45-minutes an evening to work before my morning swing shift neighbor complains about the power tools. Nevermind his diesel truck waking me up at 3.30 every morning.

Regardless, my labor of love has now chapped my ass and I simply want to get-er-done. Granted watching G play in it unfinished brings me shame as if I drove a primered Camero to pick him up from daycare. What I planned to get done Memorial Day weekend but absolutely by Father's Day weekend MUST get done this 4th of July weekend.

The neighbors walk by and taunt me by calling me Noah or wax, poetic of the joys of woodworking. I brush them off by lighting up the table saw and thanking God I at least still have all my digits.

If I don't wrap this up this weekend, I'll quit and might look like the guy in the picture before it ever gets finished.