Monday, May 14, 2001

 

12:48 p.m. One thing I am not: a real multi-tasker. I can do a multitude of tasks as long as they sort of cluster together: work on the web, do some Photoshop, do the mail, etc. But I have a really hard time sitting at the desk for half the day and climbing on a latter for the other half of the day.

It may be the change of outfits -- I have a painting uniform that can stand in the corner on its own, basically. My outfit for sitting at the computer is much more slouchy. Then, there are the fingertip issues.

I only use my fingers and their sensitive tips when I'm working here at the machine. I'm very delicate and springy. But, if I'm on the ladder and I'm trying to remove some paint from one of the wooden beams transversing our rooms, I have to really scrub and scrape and let the splinters do what they must. My hands become webs of pain.

So, it's hard to switch back and forth, but by gum, that's what I'm trying to do.

I'm trying to make myself stay at the computer in the morning and then, only when I've gotten some work done here, then and only then do I jump up, change my clothes, pull back my hair, open up the ladder, and stir up the bucket 'o paint. That's the plan, at least, and for the next few minutes, I'm abiding.

11:14 p.m. So, yes. I'm trying very hard to be two people: the one who types and the one who spackles. Which person will take over my life?

The stuff in the photo is amazing stuff. It's a sort of gluey foam that you spray-pump into holes in your life so that the wind and the elements can't get in. It continues to expand, exponentially, after you initially squirt it. That's what it did overnight, and if you peer very closely, you can see the long yellow straw between can and frozen foam.

Well, this stuff also sticks to your skin. I've tried: nail polish remover, turp, denatured alcohol, and paint remover, all to no avail. I have some of it on my hands and it's quite awful. I don't like sticky hands. Hate sticky hands, as a matter of fact.

But I sprayed this stuff into a ceiling that had water damage and it looks to me as if it's going to do the job, at least until we can get the professionals in and pay them what they're worth. Meanwhile, I'm doing the job.

Tomorrow, I'll post a photo of the window frame I've filled with the stuff, in preparation for painting. You'll get a kick out of it. My Italian painting uncles would kill me, but again, I'm doing the job and this is my house and it's only a matter of time, really, before I open up the can 'o concrete and then ... (cough) ... then there's no telling.