Tom Sawyer Paints the Fence



Crouched and faux gunblued the side of the tub in C's sawdusty studio- applying just one thin coat of blue black enamel paint seemed to be just that appetizer activity one requires after a long day of computer work.



C spent his day grinding and polishing down the iron. C will grind down the highlights and repeat with another coat. His hair is all dusty full of drywall powder. I am guiltily resentful my tub is not ready for a proper bath. Bird bathing out of the world's tiniest sink is sure path to a concussion. It's been a marathon week of early morning meetings for me.



C has been chugging along. C moved the clawfoot tub all by himself with a dolly and few wooden blocks. Not a chip to be seen on the tiles. But as J says, "I'm tired of being impressed. I want to see results."