Join my email book club. Over 250,000 people read 5-minutes a day. To see what books I'm featuring this week, go to: http://www.dearreader.com/
Dear Reader,
I painted my front door a few days ago. That might not be as newsworthy as if I'd suited up and gone sky diving, but it was an unusual thing for me to do because I'm a terrible painter.
My husband usually does all of our painting. When he was in college he painted houses and his experience shows. He's quite talented and knows all the shortcuts. The thing that amazes me the most is that he never tapes anything--his brush only touches what he sets out to paint. I don't know how he does it.
I needed a change of pace in my routine and the door desperately needed painting (a white-chalky film had formed over its dark green paint) so it seemed like it was fate; the door and I needed each other. My husband cautioned me that the door might be "needier" than I thought. I ignored him.
When I started scraping the door, it was apparent that I was in the midst of an archeological dig. This door had a history and it was revealing itself, one color at a time. My husband was right. That door was needy and after two hours, so was I. The real painter came to the rescue and finished the job.
Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.
Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com
www.DearReader.com
Comments