What Price Beauty?
The previous owner of the Cross House stripped the exterior of paint. This was a factor which weighed heavily in my buying the house.
As I continue painting the Great North Wall, I find that there is more old paint than I encountered on the Great West Wall. This paint is like old scabs on the house. I could just paint over these blemishes, and OMG this would make my life easier. Most of these scabs are several stories up in the air, and are difficult if not impossible to even see from the ground.
But I know they are there.
I wish I wasn’t like this. But I am. I wrote a previous post about this nuttiness of mine, and the following two images from that post convey the Before and After of my nuttiness:
A grinder is essential for doing all this.
But it is HORRIBLE work. Really, basically torture. It is really fast and really effective but creates a cloud of dangerous dust.
I protect myself by encasing my whole body in a Tyvek suit. I buy these in boxes of six. The suits offer protection, yes, but they do not breath. Yesterday, after removing the suit, all my clothes were soaked through with sweat, in but 74-degeee weather. WHAT will I do when it is 90+ degrees? I pale thinking about it.
I also wear a quality half-face respirator.
And tight safety goggles. But these fog up when the weather is warm, and this, more than anything, is incredibly irritating. So today I purchased a welding face mask, sorta like this. The hood of the Tyvek suit pulls over the face mask, and the mask DOES NOT FOG UP! Whoee!
Under all this work I place a plastic tarp to catch all the paint bits, and carefully dispose of this.
BUY WHY, DAHLING?
There is a payoff for all this.
I enjoy doing good work. When I do bad work, I feel depleted at the end of the day. But doing good work, no matter how difficult, energizes me. I feel, well, proud.
And the payoff HUGELY increases when the work is completed. Rather than look at new paint over old scabs, the work is smooth and looks like it would have 122-years ago. This makes me burst with satisfaction.
I also cannot help but think the following. It is just, well, there.
There is a lot wrong with the world, and I can do little about making things right globally. But in Emporia, on my house, I find it oddly nourishing that in a tiny tiny tiny way, something is better. Something has been made right.
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