Being Bored

I skipped Peet’s this morning.  That’s how excited I was to start painting the deck railings.  Painting, if you’re not rushed, is like meditation.  You can get into a rhythm and lose yourself for hours.  You can sit and listen to the radio and not feel guilty -- you’re accomplishing something.  You can stand back after a day’s work and think good thoughts about yourself.  Painting is good.

Not today.  Ten minutes of loading the brush with paint, draining the excess, squishing it up and around little corners and edges and sideways angles without dripping was ten minutes too much.  I hardly made any progress.  Progress is important when you’re impatient.  Maybe I shouldn’t have skipped Peet’s. 

“This is boring,” I said to myself.  Charlie had his own rhythm going, sawing bundled railings, setting on the screws, popping them into place.  He was in his own happy little deck-building world.  “I’ll be here all weekend.”

Jenn must have heard me.  “Can I help?” she asked through the kitchen window.  “I’m bored, too.  I might as well paint.”

A month ago when she was bored, she drew a big happy face with sunscreen on the vegan’s car hood.  Then she bribed the vegan to drive her to get fast food.  Seeing the garbage can by the driveway, she said, “Knock it down.”

He did.  They didn’t know it was full, so trash spewed all down the driveway.  “Sorry,” she said.  “You listened to me so you pick it up.”

He listens to her all the time.  It’s not always a bad thing.

I went up to the vegan’s room and naturally averted my eyes from his floor.  I don’t mind mess, but it has to be a mess of similar categories.  You can’t mix clothing mess with fast-food packaging mess.  You can’t add important papers and cd’s, as this creates a four category mess and I have a hard time staying out of nagging Mom mode.  Sometimes it’s just best to keep your eyes staring straight ahead.

Straight ahead is something in a new category.

“What’s sticking out of your wall?” I asked.  “And why is the word ‘crazy’ written next to it in big pink letters?”

“The Country Boy was bored,” the vegan said.  “He found an AOL disc in the mail, got some scissors and made a ninja star out of it.  ‘I’m going to take this to school,’ he said.

“Jenn told him, ‘No you’re not.  You’ll get expelled, dumbass.’  

“He said, ‘I didn’t think about that.’   So he threw it in here while I was on the computer.  It hit the wall and broke all over the place, but a big piece stuck.  It’s crazy, don’t you think?”

Now I remember why we’re doing his bedroom last.

Jenn sat quietly and rolled the railing fronts evenly and carefully.  The little corners and in between parts I’m painting look like neighbor kid art.  It’s going to need at least two coats.

Jenn looks over at Charlie, who’s measuring wood pieces out of hearing range.  She says, “Did Charlie say anything when he went to his patrol car?”

“No, why?”

“The Country boy wanted to put ketchup all over his police car.  I caught him and told him, ‘No, you’re not!’  He said, ‘How about if I ketchup just his door handle?’  I said that would be acceptable.”

“Thanks,” I said.  “What else goes on I don’t know about?”

“The skateboarder came home with his friends a couple of days ago,” she said.  “He said he was going to ask you for gas money.  I told him, ‘You better not.  That’s not right.’

“I told his friends, ‘The vegan drives you everywhere.  When’s the last time you gave him any money for gas?  Go home and get some.’  They did.  I’m going to miss those guys.”

I’m going to miss her, I thought.

I thought she’d last an hour painting.  She lasted longer than me.  She lapped me with the roller, found another brush and helped me with the little corners until it started getting dark. 

I got up to clean up.  “Don’t stop now,” she said.  “We can finish it tonight if you keep going.  Don’t you want to be done?” 

Charlie set up the lights outside and we finished within an hour.  I’d still have that job undone without her help.  Being bored isn’t always a bad thing.

A little help? [] 11:53:48 PM