Wait until you're right in the middle of a project, and someone will want to visit.
There's this old building on Maqin Street that I own, and on Saturday, I had some exterior painting to do. Scaffolding had to be set up, ropes tied to buckets of paint and supplies so I could hoist them up, and then up the scaffolding I went with the ropes-- 20 feet -- to the storefront of upper windows which needed to be re-glazed, primed, and painted. After the paint and supplies were hoisted up, I thought I was set.
I was in the middle of scraping old paint when I heard "Hey, what you doin?" I turned and looked down to see an old Navajo friend standing on the sidewalk below me. Most Navajos love to talk, so the timing wasn't the greatest. Today, he had a rug that he wanted to pawn. I scrambled down the scaffolding, which wasn't the most graceful sight, we did the pawn thing, and I stashed the rug into my toolbox until I could get to the office and put it in the safe.
Back on top, I finished scraping and sanding the section I was working on, opened the can of primer -- -- and just got to the middle of that section, when I heard "Wow, I'd get dizzy if I was up that high". "I was born dizzy", I replied, hoping whoever it was would just keep on going. No luck. It was the insurance adjuster, wanting to talk about a client's house that had burst pipes and damaged flooring. He had made an appointment with me for today (Monday), but this was just the perfect opportunity...... for him. I covered the primer, wrapped the paint brush in a plastic bag and climbed down once again.
That over with, I really threw myself into the project. Working too fast, trying to make up for lost time, I was careless with the trim brush and realized I was going to have to go back over the windows with a razor blade to get rid of the paint I'd slopped around. Never mind that, I was on a roll. I threw the primer brush into a can of water and was just getting ready to go back to the beginning with the first coat of paint, when a squeaky little voice yelled "Yoohoo, Yoohoo" . I was my dear friend, the little old artist lady, and she was wanting to give me painting advice. "You've got paint on the glass, dear", she said "You should take your time and be more careful". I noticed a small crowd beginning to form below me. Patrons had spilled out of the coffee shop down the street and were standing around my friend as they waved their arms and hollered advice up at me. Some were intrigued with the black plastic bag I had on over my clothes, and offered their opinions. "Oh, My God!! There's the reporter for the local newspaper. And he has his camera"!
To make a long story short, there will be a picture in the next newspaper. It will be of me making a public spectacle of myself, wearing a black plastic bag and with paint in my hair.
And to think, Friday night I was lookin' GOOD. Where was the reporter then?
I may just hire the rest of the job done.