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Home improvements

It's May. Flowers are blooming and the sky is clear. Life is renewed again. My coffee is brewing and the kids are off.

What a great day. With some time off from work, I plan to hang out, relax, maybe catch up on the latest daytime TV.

The ringing of the phone breaks the morning silence.

"Well, did you check your mail yet?" mom's voice chimes into the day.

"Sorry, mom I'm just not motivated yet. Anyway, you know that I don't like to get my mail on Mondays."

"Well, the wedding invitations are here," she exclaims. "Won't it be nice? A June wedding. The family will be arriving around the 10th."

"But, mom, the wedding isn't until the 15th."

"That's okay, dear. It will be nice seeing all of our relatives again."

"But mom, wasn't it just Christmas, like, last month?"

"Oh, did I mention? I'd like my room done in yellow."

Room done in yellow? What do we think that means? I love my mom, but if she needs a room redecorated, that means she's staying a long time.

I really hate yellow. Every thing in my house is burgundy and green. "Mom, just which relatives are coming, anyway? Dad's side, I hope."

"Well honey, some of your father's side are coming, but we thought it would be nice if the Greek side came, too. We haven't seen our people in such a long time."

Suddenly I'm afraid, very afraid.

"Some of them have never been to your house. So that's why I thought you might like to repaint my room. We wouldn't want our family to think that you have a dingy house, now would we?"

"Mom, I work two jobs and am trying to raise decent kids. Remember?"

"Now, dear, don't worry. I'm coming up early to help you get things in shape."

"Wonderful, mom. I have to go to work now."

"I thought you had the day off, and that you were going to get some rest?"

Well let's see, first I guess I'll have to make a list. Number one on the list is paint. If I start repainting, the house will be nice and fresh. I can get it in five-gallon tubs; that way I'll save lots of money.

It's off to the home improvement warehouse store. Grabbing my cart, I head to the paint section, where I ask for a tub of white, not yellow.

"Spring fix-up?" the paint guy says, making conversation.

"Family visiting. Just touching things up a bit," I reply.

"Most of them start out that way," he says absentmindedly.

"What?"

"Oh, you change one thing, then something else doesn't match and then you see how worn something else is. It's like eating potato chips. Nobody can change just one thing," he says.

We'll see. I grab a really great painter's cap. I don't want to do this kind of renovation without looking cool. Then we have rollers, pans, brushes, tape and something with wheels to do around the edges.

I grab a folding ladder and plastic drop cloth and I'm on my way. The helpful paint guy lifts all of this stuff into the back of my station wagon. His "See you again," sounds like a threat.

It is now three o'clock and the kids are home, or have been. I try to find a teenager to carry this tub of paint. The pack has already been here, devoured and moved on; leaving only an empty soda bottle and chips on the table.

I find one of my girlfriends and the two of us drag in the tub. She immediately senses the signs of a wedding or graduation and hurries home.

The kitchen is the first room on my list. All of the furniture goes into the dining room and I unplug the stove. My children are used to living on pizza, so I'm sure that it won't be too much of an inconvenience for them.

I put on the painters cap and matching work outfit. It's a great look, so I'm careful not to get any paint on myself.

I always start with the ceiling and work down, like it says in the $20 "Painting with Martha Stewart" work book.

Looking up to roll, a gob of paint falls into my eye. At least it didn't hit my outfit.

"Hey dude, what are you doing?"

The teenager is back. My left eye is sealed with paint and my right eye is twitching.

"So, dude," I respond, "how about grabbing that paint brush?"

I hadn't noticed, but standing there silently behind the teen is his faithful canine companion.

Blinded by paint, I try to get down off the ladder before it's too late. My words "Grab him!" echo through the house as I hear the splash. "Grab him," I scream, startling the teen and the dog.

Our 110-pound, really big hairy dog now bolts through the kitchen. This dog spends 90 percent of his time sleeping, but not today. This would be the hour that he chooses to frolic through the kitchen.

With dog hair flying and paint spilling, I grab the now white-tinted dog and drag him outside. The teen has since vanished without a trace and the paint roller is left dripping on the floor.

After the cleanup, the painting continues. The room does look fresher, but the paint guy was right.

Now I really hate this floor and it's obvious that the old ceiling lamp could use some updating. None of this was bothering me yesterday, but now I'm wondering just how hard it would be to replace those tired old doorknobs and add some new outlet covers.

Don't you just love weddings?