Oops! Wrong Color

It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown!

Yesterday ended and today started poorly. Suna didn’t sleep last night worrying about the house getting painted the wrong color, in spite of my saying repeatedly that we would get it fixed. The way the world works, we are extremely lucky to be this far into the project before the first miscommunication happened.

And I take ownership of this one. She told me what color she wanted the house, but I got confused when we only picked out two colors. That was because she didn’t realize we were painting the body of the house as well as the fascia, sophets, and trim. Sigh.

The fascia looks good…better when it’s painted.

The contractor was very nice and volunteered to eat part of the cost of repainting since he was involved in the miscommunication—even though I had already told him it wasn’t his fault. He even said it wouldn’t throw us that far off schedule. He will pick up more paint and have it fixed by the time we get home from work tomorrow.

I guess it’s part of getting older. I make more mistakes than I used to. Or maybe I’m just more willing to admit them.

While we were talking about the paint, he also pointed out that one of the vent caps on the house was missing. I guess it blew off in one of the storms. We hadn’t noticed because you can’t see it unless you are standing in the neighbor’s driveway looking at the chimney. At least we know how the squirrels were getting into the attic.

Born under a Bad Sign

Now this is an interesting store. Wonder what they do with all those tires. Hmmm…rubber!

Born under a bad sign

Been down since I began to crawl

If it wasn’t for bad luck

I wouldn’t have no luck at all

—Booker T. Jones

& William Bell

I saw an interesting sign on the back of a truck. It said, “Now Hiring.”

“So what makes this sign so interesting?“ you might ask. After all, lots of truck have similar signs. You can’t hard pass a big truck without seeing a similar sign. So what is unique about this one? It was the only writing on the truck. Apparently, you were supposed to follow the truck to wherever it was going and ask about a job.

It reminds me of a truck stop that I used to pass on the south side of I-10 in Van Horn. It was a grimy little truck stop, with a small café and convenience store. On three sides of the building, a sign said, “Diesel * Fried Chicken.” But if you were heading east, the sign said, “Diesel Fried Chicken.” Ummmmm. Yummy!