“I think there was at least another dozen things on that scrawled list. What do those Planning guys think I am? Superman?”
- Part 1.1 and Part 1.2
- Part 1.3 and Part 1.4
- Part 2.1 and Part 2.2
- Part 2.3 and Part 2.4
- Part 2.5 and part 2.6
- Part 2.7 and part 2.8
- Part 2.9
- Part 2.10
- Part 3.0
- Part 3.1
- Part 3.2
- Part 3.3
- Part 3.4
- Part 3.5
Well. It’s finally New Year’s Eve eve. Poor, blighted, divisive, and explosive 2016 is just about done. And, so is the building phase of Mobius the bunkhouse barge. I got a note from the Planning Department – actually it was scrawled across one of the still-unopened envelopes in a pile of reminders of obligations, new offers, and oddments that have accumulated during my recent period of convalescence. “Fri-Sun: (1) finish interior canvass coverings, (2) glass forward bulkhead, (3) fill in forward footwell, (4) first coat of paint on (at least) coachroof.”
I think there was at least another dozen things on that scrawled list. What do those Planning guys think I am? Superman?
Well, what I discover, is that I am officially a Septuagenarian. My rookie season is already 4 days old. Not only that, but a baby-Septi, with a recent-and brutal-surgery, to change one knee from bone on bone to titanium on ultrahigh molecular weight polyethylene. That doesn’t quite sound like Superman. I may have to put next bit of the Plan of Action and Milestones onto more than one envelope. Guess we’ll see about that.
Being that it’s Friday, The Boss and I had an extra cup a’Joe, watched the snow fall for a while, and waited for the morning crew to show up. There’s this one act play by Samuel Beckett, “Waiting for Godot,” that I sort of think about at times like these. By 10:30, with nobody else here to get to work; I was wondering what size painter’s coveralls The Boss wears. He gave me the ol’ stink eye and let me know that painting is for creatures with opposable thumbs. The rest of God’s children get by just fine without paint, thank you, very much. Things were off to a slow start. One good thing came of all this.
I’m the only one on the crew, that’s on salary. Anybody else would be hourly. I don’t figure we need to pay hourly guys when they don’t show up for work. Me? I can work all the hours I want to, and nobody gets too excited.
So, with that late start, I figured The Boss would be disappointed when he came out to inspect, later. Although, at the moment, he didn’t seem too bothered by anything.
When I finally got to work, I was a bit ticked off to see that the night shift left a pretty big pile of rubble in the cockpit. There was a note on the whiteboard, “Clean up cockpit, finish hanging insulation in overhead, finish gluing canvas on interior surfaces-before painting.”
Nothing for it, but to get to work, I suppose.
It’s not rocket science. But, I have to crawl in and out constantly to cut and fit all those little styro blocks. And, I cut the canvas panels out on the outfeed table, too. But I don’t go back to physical therapy for about a week, and should be able to get the swelling in my knee back down, before then. So, I canvassed all the remaining flat panels, cut and fit a bazillion styro pieces.
And before my friend Dan, at the paint counter in our local hardware store, closed up for the day, I was getting another gallon of my favorite color “Fiddler’s Green Cream” mixed up. Kate and I first came up with this custom color for our liveaboard in San Diego. Since then I’ve discovered that it’s the same thing as a manila file folder, and Rustoleum’s antique white spray paint. But we thought we were really on to something back then. Anyhow, it’s an easy match.
By the time we had an early knock off for the night shift, I had two coats on just about everything inside and out. And, I’m outa’ paint, already.
I think the top is supposed to be red. Another custom color, that matches Rustoleum’s regal red. I guess I’ll have to go visit Dan in the morning,
And, you know? I pretty much doubt anybody will get anything done while I’m gone.