Tuesday, 9 September 2008

My husband decided that the house needed a new coat of pain, and I couldn't agree more. We were only going to have the exterior painted since it needed a facelift badly, and the interior painting would have to wait - until we can afford it, and when we have decided on the colour.

But, boy, was I in for a shock. First, the painter turned out to be a woman whose "Assalam mualaikum" couldn't be more chirpy. And, she's Chinese. Second - after barely a day's work, the garden was in shambles. She had to first remove the old coat of paint by peeling it off using a water-jet which left zillion bits and pieces of paint scattered on the ground. Not a pretty sight, I tell you. And, naturally, the flowers, the trees, the leaves, and everything else in the garden were not spared either. The garden path - if you can make it out - was completely covered in flakes of paint, rendering it a patch of white (the colour of the previous coat). An utter mess.

I feel sorry for my husband. He, with the green fingers, was the 'architect' of the garden which he started from scratch 3 years ago. He looked forlorn just looking at the chaos; possibly even wondering if it would be a 'garden' again. Me? I'm wondering if I'll survive the clean-up job next week.


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