TODAY, WE PAINT

Today I reside in D.I.Y limbo. Lots to do, not enough time in the day.

I have ended my home makeover procrastination and have commenced to convert a spare bedroom into my office. I will finally be able to get my computer and writing resources off the dinning room table.

I have guilted my youngest brother and his girlfriend into helping me with my D.I.Y projects this weekend.

1. Paint the office
2. Assemble the Ikea office furniture
3. Sand the stairs and banister
4. Paint and stain the stairs and banister

Okay, before you get on my case about "slave labour". May I inform you that this is all VERY MINOR payback for all the sleepless nights I have lost over a vast amount of brain drain from above mentioned brother.

It all started innocently with his grade six valedictorian speech. A speech that left not a dry eye in the house, written by... me, his Ghostwriter. Since then, we (I write, he submits) have been getting A's on all our writing assignments. Not only do I have a B.A. in Political Science, I also (by proxy) have a B.Comm. in ITM.

Upon his University graduation, one would assume that I have expunged my ghostwriting career. Well we all know what happens when one assumes. ASS-U-Me ('nuff said).

Hence, the guilt.

But, what about his poor innocent girlfriend? Surely the slave labour thing is a bit too much to bestow upon her.

My reply in six poignant little words: I let her cut my hair ('nuff said).

Today, we paint.