To Paint or Not to Paint WC 275

To Paint or Not to Paint
WC 275

My buddy, Hal, and I were painting my living room.

“What’s Greige?” Hal asked as he glanced at the can.

“A cross between grey and beige. Myra picked it out,” I said.

“I’m glad it’s latex.”

“Me, too. I hate painting with enamel.”

“Remember when that was all we had, George, and it was lead-based?
”
Hal and I are in our mid-sixties, so we remember such things.

“I wonder if the girls are spending all the money,” I said as I worked.

Our wives were shopping at Woodfield Mall and did tend to shop ‘till they dropped.

" You know, George, you are such a lamp dog. When Myra says jump, you say how high."

"Meaning?"

She says, ‘Paint the living room, George,’ and here we are, painting the living room instead of watching the game."

"I think you mean, lap dog, Hal."

"Lamp dog, lap dog! You know what I meant," Hal said, then smiled and added, " Leaf me alone," as he rolled Behr greige paint on my arm.

I stood back from our handiwork as I wiped paint from my arm. "I think it needs another coat. What do you think, buddy?”

"I think it's fine. Got any beer?" Hal said as he put his roller in the tray.

"In the fridge."

I secured the paint can lid and wrapped the brushes and rollers while Hal got the beer from the fridge and turned on the TV in the den.

"Come on, lamp dog. The Bears are ahead, and I don't mean B e h r s."

The second coat could wait.