The Paint Job
Or: Lessons on the Tongue from James
A few years ago, Craig and I agreed we would paint the baseboard in our kitchen, down the hallway into the laundry room, and any door frames that needed to be included along that route.
The start was a bit…rocky.
“We need to agree on some issues before we get started,” I informed Craig.
“Like we’ll do this naked?” he asks excitedly.
I wisely chose to completely ignore that. “Who’s doing the taping?”
“You never like my great ideas! I thought I could start in the laundry room. You, in the kitchen. And we’d make our way towards each other.”
“But what if you…don’t do it…right?”
“Ok. Let’s start over, since you clearly want to be in charge. What do you want me to do?”
I glare at him for a few secs. Realized I didn’t like what he was saying, but it was probably true. Mostly true. “So you’ll press the tape down really hard and—”
“Yes, dear.”
“Don’t be snarky!” I give him a light punch in the gut.
The taping goes very quickly and then we’re pouring paint, agree to start at opposite ends once again and work towards each other. Every once in a while one of us drops a paintbrush (“shoot!”) or tips the container (“ugh! That made a mess!”). But overall, we get the job done much faster than I’d anticipated.
“Now, we need to wait several hours before we pull up the tape,” Craig informs me.
I frown. I was really hoping to get this DONE by early afternoon.
“If we pull it off too soon, we’ll pull off still-wet paint. Gotta wait.”
I agree, regretfully, and then plow into other jobs waiting to be done: wash, changing the bed, cleaning out a closet. So by late afternoon—when Craig says we can finally remove the tape and I’m good and tired and (yes, I will fully admit it) cranky.
For whatever reason—maybe just because I WAS so tired?—I don’t think about the possible consequences and I begin pulling up Craig’s end of the taping. So that when I pull it up I see PAINT UNDERNEATH. GLOBS OF PAINT. THAT I HAVE TO NOW SCRAPE AND CLEAN AND MESS WITH, so I am NOT happy. I open my mouth and just let whatever flow: “You didn’t do the tape right! Look at this mess! I’m going to have to scrape ALL of this and—”
When I notice that no, actually not ALL of Craig’s tape has paint underneath. It was only a small area and Craig also quickly points out to me that—hello!!—my tape ALSO has some paint underneath.
It’s take a deep breath time. Ask for forgiveness. And a realization and plan for the future time. (See “Resolve” below!)
“I’m sorry. You’re right. I jumped to conclusions and it wasn’t fair.”
Resolve: In the future when this happens (because this will occur again—different job, varying scenario, but same outcome), I will think to myself: You are tired, Carolyn. Worn out. At this point, anything that you let move from your lips to audible sound will NOT be edifying. Therefore, you will not say anything—at least, not at that point. Unless the house is on fire or Frisco is making that harking sound right before he throws up and you move faster than the speed of light to push his backside out the door…
Maybe you can tell I had recently worked through the book of James? If you’re struggling with “tongue control” (like me!), consider reading and taking to heart (especially with our spouses; why do we so often think of other people, but not the person we’re closest to?) James’ inspired advice in 1:19; 1:26; 3:1-12; 4:11-12.
When we first decided to tackle the job of painting, we told our son Jay that our “main goal was not to kill each other.” His retort: “You’ve set the bar pretty low!”
P.S. Seems like every morning I’m picking crumbs off the seat of Craig’s recliner – the ones that Frisco missed, that is. When I griped at him about that, he quipped, “Be thankful. Gives you great job security.” (And Frisco an ever present source of more food. How he adores his daddy!)