One of the things that's driven me absolutely nuts is that one side of my garage (the weather side, I'm told) was in great need of a coat of paint.
When Johnny arrived last week he said:
"Want me to paint your garage?"
"Yes!" I answered.
Yet, he's here for R&R...
...so I let it slide.
Or so I thought!
My own sons are very unlike me.
They're very casual. A bit leisurely.
Matt is the exception, as he will work hard at any job he's given and like me, he's obsessive.
Turns out, Johnny is too. I was hitting jobs on Thursday when he face-timed me. (It's never just a phone call with him. He wants to see who he's talking to).
"What's up?" I asked.
"Did you get the paint?"
He showed me that he had already started to scrap the garage.
"I'll get it," I said.
"Today!" He said. Then he hung up.m
I swung by Home Depot.
I dropped off the paint and then started writing reports. By the time I finished I moseyed down to the garage.
He had already scraped and painted a quarter of the garage.
I sat in a chair and scraped along with him.
"You know," I said. "Your Dad was the last guy to paint anything here."
"He painted the walls in the basement."
I hung with him for a little while and said:
"Let's just do the bottom half tonight. We can get the rest over the weekend."
I went off to make dinner and when I looked outside he had already started to scrap the other half.
"Thought you were done," I yelled out the window.
"Work until dinner is ready," he said.
There would be a lot done around here if any of the other campers had the obsessive gene!
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