11:46 p.m. Here is the final groovy close-up picture of the balls of the month. Other pictures are on Sept. 1 and Sept. 7. Pretty hard to guess, huh? Shiny, isn't it. And it hasn't been painted -- that's its natural color. Ditto for the blue-ish and yellow-ish ones.
I can tell you this -- these were once the property of the US government. They have the biggest, brassiest balls in the universe, and these photos are the proof. Or, maybe they're titanium. That seems about right.
Well, I'll put off telling you what they are for another few days, just like I'm putting off everything else. Things are getting pretty backed up around here -- everything except my files, which I really should back up, but I'll be waiting on that, too, I suppose. Too much paint flying around. Sticky paint.
Dishes keep filling the sink. Every time I empty it out, more show up there. I have to keep moving everything aside so I can wash my brushes out each night, which is my new, very admirable habit. In the old days I used to wrap the brush in a plastic bag, paint and all, and just pick up the next day where I left off. You could go for a couple of days that way, and if you had to be away from the job for longer than that, you could put them in the freezer.
It's true. Unfortunately, it sort of ruins the brush, but if the brush is cheap enough to begin with, it might not matter to you. But, as with everything else, I went overboard. My kids began to get fussy with so many brushes stuck between their fudgie-wudgie ice cream bars, so eventually I stopped that practice. They don't believe me, but it's true.
I've segued from white on the walls to green on the furniture today, I'm happy to say. I've got a motley group of chairs, you can imagine, and now each one of them is going to be a different, but compatible shade of green. It's very exciting. It's the solution to chaos. It will be a forest of chairs.
I've got a lot of different hues and tints from my last house painting job. I ended up with a light green on the siding, three shades on the windows, another on the porch floor, a dark green you can't see in the picture for some French doors on the side, and a bright orange door. I also have small cans of the mistakes and almost, but not quites: olive drab, grey-green, lime green, and a blazing yellow-green.
So, that's my job tomorrow. In some parts of the country, people are celebrating the confetti fiesta of the turning leaves. In California, we celebrate all the stubborn, yet precarious, shades of green.
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