Diagnosis: Company-is-coming anxiety
Him or her?
Will he or won’t he?
Should she or shouldn’t she?
We’re playing the waiting game in the Kiaski casa.
Better Half bought me a present the other day — an 8-foot ladder. Tough to gift wrap but very thoughtful.
It’s the gift that keeps on giving — especially grief.
Nothing says love quite like something brand spankin’ new that you can ascend to paint a 10-foot bedroom ceiling that hasn’t seen a fresh coat since Jimmy Carter left the White House.
Why even bother painting a ceiling?
Who even looks at one with admiration, unless it’s the Sistine Chapel?
Why is this even a project showing up on a list of things to do?
It’s because the Mrs. of the house — yours truly — suffers from acute company-is-coming anxiety — and there’s really no cure for it, although Better Half’s remedy seems simple and effective enough: Everybody just stay home!
My company-is-coming anxiety means I go room by room and decide this needs fixed, that needs done, something should be switched out, you get the picture.
Of course everything can’t be as simple as a bathroom — just buy a new shower curtain and some towels no one’s really allowed to use and move on with life, right?
But painting a bedroom ceiling isn’t such a simple fix — it’s one of those projects you sit back and hope somebody else will take the initiative to do. That’s where we are.
You don’t dispute that it needs done, but you could argue the point over who’s the better candidate for the job.
I kept talking about how I was going to paint the ceiling, that it was my goal to get it done one day or possibly this week.
I even bought an extension roller in a gesture of goodwill, proof that I was kind of serious about it, thinking that would get the task on track, even though I really wasn’t doing a very good job of convincing myself.
The extension roller came up short, just like my bright idea. Who wants to get a stiff neck looking heavenward to paint a ceiling?
Better Half intervened and hence the 8-foot ladder to make the job a little easier. It’s just not clear for whom.
The ladder is in the middle of the room, like a centerpiece or a really odd focal point. It’s waiting patiently to be used. Very patiently.
It might be time for me to look heavenward at the ceiling … and pray someone’s up for the job.
(Kiaski, a resident of Richmond, is a staff columnist and community editor for the Herald-Star and The Weirton Daily Times. She can be contacted at firstname.lastname@example.org.)