scott, Just recalled an experience i had with painting back when i was often the paint crew on jobs. I was working for three brothers who did almost everything on their houses except the plumbing and electrical. One of the trades they did by themselves was the painting. I think that was when i first started to develop my dislike for the project; as I was the electee for most of it.
We were coming close to completion on a low ranch that was wood shingle siding with light green stain finished (Oil stain?). I had completed all of the staining all the way around except for the bottom three couss along one side of the house. the wall was maybe 40 or 50 feet in length. This was way back in 1950, so since I am only 39, I don't really remember things like distances so well. I had just finished a five gallon pail and was about to open another when the plumber stopped by. The middle brother, who I worked with mostly, and I were the only others on the job; but the plumber had a full bottle of scotch that he felt he needed assistance to find the bottom of. I was under age, for such, but in those days, I had a taste for such things. I did not drink when out with my peers, but when home, i was always allowed to sample.
This particular afternoon I was quite willing to assist in emptying my share of the bottle and was the one elected to "take the poison off", which I was most willing and enthusiastic to do. I don't recall how much of the scotch the three of us had, but we each took several swigs. I probably had least my share. I did go back out to finish staining those last rows of shingles. I had never drand the hard stuff while working altho, when I was younger, i had always had a good sampling of beer while working in the hay fields. I hated coke and pepsi, but that beer sure tasted great. I must have felt I could handle the Scotch as well as I had always handled the beer. i expected no pay back.
Since the last rows of shingles were low, i had to bend down, ether by bending my knees or bend from the waist. I was in a great big hurry. I had a date to pick up my girl friend right after work at slightly after four thirty. i was already running late, so i just grabbed the 5 gal pail and large brush and started in. i was holding the pail in one hand and brush in the other and bending from the waist, never letting the bucket settle to the ground, i sailed along, never straightening up for relief until I got all the way to the end of the three rows. AS I finished the rows, i straightened up. That is, i forced my back to go straight. My knees had been straight the whole way. As my back straightened, and my knees were already straight, my entire body just continued the momentum until all was straight ... and lying flat on the ground. The bucket of paint was not yet empty and since the hand that had been holding onto it seemed to have suddenly lost its authority, the bucket decided to have a mind of its own. It just kept on going in the same arc as it had started as my body went its way.
When all came to a halt, I was covered from head to feet with green stain. The can of turpentine that was on hand for cleaning the large brush was no where near enough to clean everything. I guess I got most of it off of my face and maybe the seat of my pants. Heaven forbid that I should get my car stained. I could get covered with anything, but my car-----!!!!! I did manage to pick up my girl friend and she got a good laugh about her green monster. Her mom wasn't so happy about my plight, but after a few harsh words to her daughter, she got to laughing as well.
Well, even tho i did not like painting, the experiences i had with the trade had left me with many tales to tell after i got to be 39. the big trick was to actually live that long. [scared]
Tinker
