I DID paint the mailbox this weekend! So glad you asked!
It was also the reason for two of the three trips I made to the hardware store. First trip to go get some paint, and I fell victim to an impulse purchase because they were having some sort of early-bird Father's Day sale. All pocket knives, 20% off.
Like crack, I'm telling you.
Found a nice little Schrade Old Timer for only $7. As those who read this garbage know, I also have long carried a nice old, pre-bankruptcy, non-Chinese-made Uncle Henry in the same three blade style, although it is an inch longer. Why two almost exactly alike? As I said, pocket knives are like crack, that's why.
ANYway, back to the mailbox. While at the store, I also got some new shiny letters, and got home and started scraping and wire-brushing, and finally got most of the rust off the fancy post and the number plate. Sprayed my paint on and...
Hmm.
Well, I bought stove paint, thinking it would be just a tiny bit more satiny-finish than it was. Nope. Dead black. Now, I suppose I could have gotten out the stove polish, but it was just easier to head back down to the hardware store and get a can of shine. So, I did. Second trip of the day.
Went then to get the oil changed in Reba's car. I would do it, but it's more trouble than it's worth. Also, the entertainment value of the Express Oil Change place is hard to beat. I think I had a new kid--he didn't wash my windshield or oil my doors, and more to the point, had an odd way of checking the oil. I think he didn't realize that people can see underneath the big gap under the back edge of the hood, because when he opened it up, he searched and searched for the prop rod. That has a handy bright yellow tip so you can see it.
Then, he proceeded to rummage around under the hood looking at stuff, and managed to put too much oil in the engine. "Uhh--hey, Bay #3, need to drain one quart. Sorry! WAIT--hold on--it's reading right!"
Trouble was, he was using the transmission dipstick.
Not the one marked in big yellow letters ENGINE OIL.
He'd plunge it down in there, then read it again--"IT'S STILL SHOWING THAT IT'S RIGHT!" and shout down to his cohort in the pit. The pit man told him to have me crank it, because sometimes that will make it read different.
Cranked it, and at some point in there he realized what he'd done. He put the trans dip stick down and grabbed the engine oil stick--"YEAH, Bay #3, need to drain a quart!" The pit guy did as he was bidden and asked what happened. "I uh...uh, I'll tell you later."
I imagine he thought I hadn't seen any of this little bit of theater since my face was hidden from his by the hood, but as I said, there was a BIG gap at the bottom.
My advice to Express Oil Change? Forget the friendly Otis the Possum character, and make sure the guys doing the top side work on cars KNOW WHAT THE HECK THEY'RE DOING!
Got home and finished up the spray-paint job as Jonathan and Catherine took turns trying to get as close to me as possible on their bikes. Grr.
Let it dry for not quite long enough and started putting the numbers on. "Daddy, why are you doing that?"
"Because we needed new numbers."
"Why?"
"The old ones were all nasty looking and this looks nicer."
"Oh. You got paint on you."
::sigh::
Yes. Anyway, stuck the numbers on very carefully and now the mailbox and the surrounding patch of black grass look brand new. Time to cut grass!
Boy had already been gotten out earlier in the day before the first trip to the hardware store and had been hitched to the mower to get the front yard cut. Very nicely done--we did diagonals this time, and so the yard looks like the Detroit Tiger Stadium outfield. Sorta.
The front hadn't been bad at all, but the back yard was quite dusty, for some reason. I felt like loading up the Model T and escaping to California. What wound up happening is that it got so bad that the lawn mower actually choked down and wouldn't run. Never have had that happen before. Stopped, took out the filter, and it was as if I was trying to grow plants in there. Shook it out, put it back in, still wouldn't run. Grr.
Got the tools out and went to work trying to see if there was something in the carb. Took off the air cleaner (tearing the fragile gasket in the process), then took the float bowl off and got gasoline everywhere, including all over me. Finally finished off the grass and then went down to the hardware store for the third and final time to get a new filter which, thankfully, fit.
Then Reba took Rebecca shopping and didn't get back until 9.
"Vacation shopping," they said.
BUT, I think they probably did some Father's Day shopping, too. Sneaky girls!