First, it was not raining today. It was wet, yes, but I never saw any rain. Rather, it was like being on the Scottish moors. It was kinda foggy all day and with what must have been like 250% humidity. Had the temperature been 99 degrees rather than 53 degrees I would have melted. But vey high humidly and 53 degrees is not really uncomfortable, and, with a name like Ross Malcolm MacTaggart, today I felt quite at home, genetically.
Second, I was not singing. Well, I did briefly sing in the dining room. Big old houses with plaster walls are acoustically fabulous and I sound really good in the Cross House.
No, I wasn’t otherwise singing from happiness because today I was desperate to finish painting the north porch. This is my last day of good weather for awhile. But do you know what paint does on Scottish moors? It don’t dry.
When I arrived in the early afternoon my goal was to first get some primer on some spots, with the idea that in an hour I could put on the finish coat. But the primer did not dry. The primer would not dry.
Moroever, even though no actual rain could be discerned, everything was…damp. This is SO not conducive to painting.
Thus, instead of singing I was…not really cursing…but more like…thinking…poo. Big poo. Yea, it was a big poo kinda afternoon.
Later, I realized that had I been wearing a kilt things might have gone better.
Even though the day did not go as expected I am still nonetheless rather delighted.