The Fine Art of Irresponsibility

Recently my wife has been ailing from sciatica in her left hip. This has been a blessing for me. For the first time in a long time, I am not the biggest pain in her backside.

“Don’t forget to paint the front porch before the rains come,” she reminded me.

Painting ranks right up there with middle school band concerts.

“Ok beauty. If you ask me it could easily go another year or two, but I trust your eye,” She was climbing into her car for a trip to the chiropractor.

There are two ways to interpret, “paint the front porch.” Cheryl of course had the delusion of me doing the whole thing. Possibly a three-hour job. I, on the other hand, interpreted what she was asking as: paint the boards that needed painting and then drive downtown for a doughnut and coffee. This is what I call, “The Fine Art of Irresponsibility.”

It was a traditional cool fall morning in Washington. Dew was on the porch boards. Leaves fluttered to the ground from the nearby birch tree and the pungent smell of burning garbage from the neighbor’s 55-gallon burn barrel filled the air.

Step One of the Art: Cut Corners

I quickly assembled my painting supplies and after assessing the project, determined that only the steps and the first four planks of the porch needed paint. This would take no more than 45 minutes. Once the paint dried, the new paint would blend in with the paint on the unpainted boards and Cheryl would never know the difference. Finding the widest brush we owned, I hurriedly slapped paint on the planks and called it good. After a quick rinse of the brush, I was in my car headed to the bakery. With the cool temperature, it would take a while for the paint to dry.

Naturally, while I was sitting in the bakery my phone rang.

“How is the painting coming? Do you need me to pick up some more paint for the porch?”

“No dear. I barely had enough but I think I got it all.” I hoped that she was unable to detect my mouthful of doughnut.

“Great! How does it look?” She asked.

“I’d say that it’s one of my better jobs. See you when you get home.” Three hours saved and a doughnut to boot. I am truly a genius.

Step Two of the Art: Not Safeguarding Your Project

Precautions. Why would I need to take Precautions? Nobody ever comes to my house.

Two hours later I drove into the driveway and walked to the porch to marvel at my deceptive paint job. My first hint that something was awry was the footprints on the sidewalk coming from the porch that were amazingly the same color as the porch paint. Walking to the porch steps I found tennis shoe prints in the paint and next to the front door was a box from the UPS driver. On the box was a ‘Post-It’ note with the word “sorry” written on it. I also found what looked like dress shoe prints in the paint. Sure enough, there was a “Watch Tower” magazine stuck in my screen door. Closer examination revealed the word “sorry” scrawled on the cover.

Not to be outdone by humans, the neighborhood cat had made several circular pirouettes in the paint before standing on its hind legs and putting its front paws on the screen door frame. And lastly, the light breeze had caused the leaves from the birch tree to flutter down onto the porch surface where they stuck in the drying paint making the porch look more or less camouflaged — but only on the boards I had painted.

As I stood surveying the mess, Cheryl’s car drove into the driveway. She got out and walked up to look at the porch. There was not much said. I only heard a sarcastic, “aha.”

“Looks like you’ve got a box, Dear,” I pointed out.

Final Step of the Art of Irresponsibility: Do the whole job over the next day…correctly.

Faith Family Life Getting Older Growing Up Misadventures Music Patriotism Pets or Pests? Snips Tributes