Painted black

So I painted the basement’s office/bedroom. And I didn’t arrange for Theo to be watched. I figured que sera sera. By the way, if you are in a Seminary class and your Old Testament professor is handing out a test, then quotes a Latin phrase which means something like ‘As you studied, so may you perform’ – don’t quote que sera sera. Fyi.
Anyway, so Theo’s interest was peaked when I began to prepare for painting. So he sauntered over, grabbed my paint stick, which was quarter round trim because he had taken my paint stick earlier, and as soon as I cranked up my electric hand sprayer, he began to beat on the wall. Not sure of the connection. Actually, between Theo’s adjusting the plastic tarp, hands on the wall, bringing in the other paint can, taking my sprayer kit outside to the swing set (where I found my paint stick) and other helpful deeds, the painting went well. Imagine that?

Now I got to go prime the concrete and get it ready to stain.  Makes me think of that song by Ray Lamontagne.

Home Improvement

Since I have been home, I have completed several remodeling projects – in slow motion.  Part of the lack of speed is my concern to the job right (not my age), but the other part is what I call the Theo factor.  It can be reduced to an impersonal math equation:  Estimate project x 2.5 = actual length of project.  Plus, approximate tool loss = 2; material loss = 10%.  Something like that.

For example, in the whirl and swirl of painting, I would be spraying paint and turn to grab a brush to see that it is not where I carefully placed it.  So, I look for Theo.  He will either have it and be painting something that I prefer not to be that particular color, or he will have placed the brush in a black hole.  When he misplaces a tool I have to think like him in order to find it.  ‘Where would a Down Syndrome boy put a tool that I need right now?’

After staining the basement floor I painted the trim and doors.  When it came time to replace the doorknobs, the laundry room doorknob went missing.  After looking in all the unusual places I gave up.  About two weeks later and pretty close to buying a new doorknob, Alex found it in one of the kitchen drawers.  I promptly installed – project completed.

Theo also loves to enter my tool room and retrieve one of my hammers, then build stuff by banging on the floor I just stained or hitting fragile stuff.  Like the glass door.  However, recently I was cooking his usual eggs and I heard him banging on our new basement couch which Aunt Laura gave us (only after I impressed on her that it would be the last time she would see it in good shape).  Suddenly I heard the hammer clang on the concrete floor and Theo cry out, so I ran, okay walked briskly, downstairs just in time to see Theo hit the couch with the hammer vigorously.  Then he started rubbing his head and crying.  Obviously, he was earlier hitting the couch and the hammer bounced back hitting him in the face dropping the hammer.  So he did what anybody would do, pick the hammer back up and exact revenge.

Now I need to find the flashlight I use for Theo’s therapy!

*After I finished writing this, Holly and I went to work out but the treadmill safety-magnet-on-a-string thingy was missing.  Luckily we found it right away in Alex’s bathroom – of course.