Butler's hot chocolate= excellent
All gay man production of The Importance of Being Earnest
at the Abbey= beautiful and wonderful
us= moving on to Cavan
Fuz and I are off to Ireland until the 3rd. A couple of days in Dublin, then to Cavan for a wedding. W00t!
I have obtained A Job. Said Job is both
b) completely boring.
I'm working for a painting company on the restoration of a Masonic Lodge turned hotel convention center. It's cool in that I get to work in a circa 1908 Masonic Lodge everyday and my co-workers are really nice and fun. It's really boring painting though. The building is huge and very, um, grand. Think rooms with 25' high plaster relief ceilings. Marble columns. Gold leaf. Marble floors. Marble everything. Giant gold "G"s on the walls of many rooms, radiating golden rays.* Climbing up to the 5th floor is a real chore, because it's way more than 5 stories up. It's more like ten, due to the incredibly high ceilings in each and every room.
Of course, I love it. Even though I spend all day on a 20' scaffold in the Corinthian Room, painting the 25' ceiling (How do you stand up straight? With difficulty.) I am in love with this building.
But it is an old building. Bits of it are somewhat delicate. Today I was on my scaffold, happily priming away. I put out my hand and rested it on the plaster capital of one of the columns. A chunk the size of my head fell off and plummeted to the floor. It smashed into 5 big chunks and approximately ten thousand tiny bits. Oh, shit. I have just broken a 97 year-old building. This is the sort of thing you get sent straight to Hell for in my philosophy. Jim the Plaster Guy started laughing riotously. Greg, my scaffold buddy, immediately felt better about the fact that he had earlier spilled a quart of oil primer on the marble floor. Suddenly I was Asshole of the Day. Hell.
Boss Mariah was very nice about the whole thing. It seemed to be no more than she was expecting from the capitals, which are falling apart anyway. Still. I will be mocked about this for days. By a guy named Toad, no less.
*Someone who knows something about Masons, tell me, what does the "G" stand for? God? Geometry? Giraffes? Giant Golden Geese?
Originally uploaded by Adridne.
Fuz has been craving a bicycle. The main impediment was lack of storage space. Saturday we saw Landlord Jay (actually Property Manager Jay) as we were taking out the recycling. Fuz mentioned his problem and asked if he could store the hypothetical bike in the laundry room. Landlord Jay said not in the laundry room, but the storage space would be fine.
Storage space? We have a storage space?
Apparently yes. He showed us where the mysterious door at the back of the building leads. A little dimly lit hallway with small storage spaces. And at the back, a bunch of crap. Bookshelves, dressers, china, and two bikes. So we took the bookshelves.
Now let me tell you a secret. I hate biking. It's sweaty, it's uncomfortable, it's just no fun. I didn't even learn to ride without training wheels until I was ten. But this bicycle... it's so pretty. I could not resist its shiny red pull. Pretty lines, an upright posture, a wide cushy seat. And in beautiful condition.
Okay, in reality it was filthy and had obviously been abandoned for years. Both tires were completely flat. But the paint job looked pretty good.
Anyway, we cleaned it up, oiled the chain and sprockets, filled the tires, and it's great. It turns out I don't hate biking. I just hate biking fast and hunched over. Now that I can sit up and look around and go as slow as I please, it's pretty fun. Yay.