When I woke up, the only thing on my to-do list was buy paint. I’d waited since Memorial Day for it to come on sale again, and the guys were still working on circuits, so I was free. But I got a call from Ben, our tile guy. He hadn’t expected to be open because of the holiday, but called to tell me something came up and we could pick up our order.
Since the guys were already at the house, Joe’s Uncle Tim, who’s visiting this week, volunteered to take the drive with me. I was grateful to have someone along to blame if any of it didn’t pass Joe’s inspection. But—major shout out to Ben and the crew at Forever Marble & Granite—no need, because they did an awesome job. Of course, my standards are lower now, and I would have been happy with anything that simply didn’t have to be re-done, but they did seriously great work in record time for a reasonable price. You da man, Ben.
Then I got my paint. Every home improvement show I’ve ever seen makes paint sound cheap—you know, for a few measly bucks, you can change the entire look of a room!—but 10 gallons adds up. I know Joe’s parents thought I was crazy and/or incredibly cheap for waiting over a month for the sale, but that $45 rebate check is going to be sweet.
There was a couple around the same age as Joe and me at the paint counter, with one of those big flat carts, loaded: faucets, recessed lights, you name it. The girl told me they had just bought their first home three weeks ago, not far from us. “We’ve been here three times already,” she laughed, obviously still in the honeymoon phase of renovating. But when I told her that we were on month eight, I saw the smile dim, and a worried look cross her eyes briefly. “Good luck,” I said, and wheeled my paint away.