Monday, January 20, 2003

The stairs aren't even vacuumed yet. But walking out the door this morning, hair in disarray from a quick shower and into bed after my nocturnal grinding, the stairwell is transformed from darkness into light. For I have set unto you on this day, and forevermore, that fir shall no longer toil under paint, but be grainy unto the air and sky. White pine is still a little too soft, too, well, wood trash, white trash, to deserve prominent display. But I'm beginning to change my mind about fir. Broad grain isn't necessarily BAD grain. I don't like fir as much as I love sugar pine in that category, but I think it'll do just fine. Even if, sans hard ugly paint, the stairs need replacing every forty years or so. Archer said last night that getting over a girl is like getting over a cold. You just wake up one day, after the lingering affects are over, and vaguely remember that you were sick. Sanding is good medicine in the meantime. 10:03:19 AM