Another week in renovation life has come and gone here on Morning Street and I have bored feet, or is it a board feat? We are painting our house one clapboard at a time on saw horses. It saves me from having to maneuver on ladders, something no one here wants to see.
I’ve discovered a lot of thinking time while I paint. Sometimes I think about the boards themselves and how many I have completed. Under my fuzzy math category (which is building exponentially like the aches in my back) I calculated that we have painted 4820 linear feet of 4” clapboards. Picture your favorite mile walk, or perhaps your one mile swim, and that is what I am approaching in clapboards.
Doing a thing is knowing a thing. I know clapboards, and painting, and counting them.
If I could know writing the way I know painting clapboards, I could write a clean, mistake-free mile of pages in two weeks time. I could read my favorite mile walk, being careful not to step in the paragraph changes, and wear my Gortex coat during the sad parts. I would shield my eyes when I turn toward the bottom of the page, and make sure Molly isn’t in danger of being hit by one of my sarcastic comments.
If I could write the way I know painting clapboards, I would create words that stick to the page in perpetuity and possibly brighten someone’s day. My words would slide on the page, smooth and creamy and satisfying.
Like I said, there’s a lot of time to think while painting.
What are you thinking about?