Paint on the Wall

I do a lot of things backwards. I read magazines from back to front. I had twins and then figured out that identical twins are a statistical crap shoot (a story for another time).

I prefer to start every day with a cocktail (emphasis on prefer, not do so don't send me links to rehab agencies.)

I like to eat my dessert first.

Now, here is a story, all of which is true. Every last word of it. I couldn't make this up, even if I tried. I'm going to tell you this story backwards. Starting with this crazy wall at the end of the story.

This wall is in my basement and has been painstakingly and exhaustingly painted by me, and my three slaves, er, my lovely family. We painted the wall because we are adding a room in our basement.

We are re-doing the basement because A&P have an XBox in the family room. The XBox is driving me bananas. I refuse to live with a rock band, a souped up Camaro, some ninjas, Darth Vader, a fighter pilot or any combination thereof. The rock band when fully staffed by four unwashed 12 year old boys is nothing that needs to see the light of day. So, below stairs the band will go with the ninjas in tow.

A&P received the XBox for Christmas, but it was really delayed reward for mowing the lawn this fall. Mowing the lawn? A bribe? Why yes, A&P mowed the lawn because their father, my husband, had back surgery. Tim had lower back surgery in August after suffering all summer with a rotten nagging pain that turned out to be a nasty disc problem.

He injured his back lifting a toilet in A&P's bathroom. Lifting a toilet? Why yes, certainly a common weekend activity. He manhandled the toilet so that I could remove the wallpaper behind it and paint the bathroom before the contractor showed back up to finish the ceiling. A&P's bathroom needed a remodel because there was a hole in the ceiling. (OK, it could have just used a new ceiling, but as far as I'm concerned the universe was ordering me to remodel. But, I digress.)

The ceiling? Yes, only a few weeks before the injurious toilet raising, the ceiling had one very large, man sized hole in it. A hole not-so-mysteriously the same size and shape as Tim.

Yes, Tim and I had gone into the attic one Saturday morning to figure out why the ceiling in A&P's bathroom was starting to peel. Turns out the vent fan wasn't doing its job properly so we decided to fix it. Fix it we did! We celebrated with high-fives and then jinxed ourselves. But the attic has areas with no flooring. Perching on the joists is a bit perilous- especially in dress shoes because your wife dragged you up the attic stairs early one morning after telling you to hurry up and just grab any pair of shoes for what surely now sounds like an exercise in exceedingly bad judgment.

So, the hastily grabbed shoes carrying the grumbling husband slipped off the joist and he fell through the ceiling with his legs dangling into the sink room of A&P's bathroom. Thankfully he was hung up on the joist and in the bathroom because had he been only a few yards to the east, he would have fallen two stories into our front hall. Splat onto the rug. We have reached the beginning.

Shall we recap in reverse? Misbehaving vent fan leads to attic expedition resulting in foot slip and nasty fall through ceiling into now to be remodeled bathroom with toilet to be moved by the husband who while lifting it herniates L5-S1 requiring surgical repair thus preventing lawn maintenance now left to A&P who receive XBox as a reward which is too loud and obnoxious for other habitants to bear hence a basement room.

Back to the end of our story- I paint the wall. We're at the end, or maybe a coda? Or...I think this may lead to another bathroom remodel because the contractor has a nifty piece of recycled granite that would be perfect in the guest bath and....