210. DIY

 One is on the way out.

'Text me when you get there, please!'

'Yes. Bye!'

Bang. The front door slams shut. I am beginning to seriously worry about this front door. One day it is going to fall off its hinges.

Bang. The front door opens again and hits the back wall. Bang. It slams shut again. Bang. I am lost. Is someone in or is someone out? Is it a member of our family or a robber? (I am a bit touchy about robbers right now.)

'Who's there?' I scream.

'It's me!'

Always the same answer. Then a whirlwind twists past me up the stairs.

'How was the party?' I dare to ask even though I am not close to the fridge and do not know if it is party day or beach day or who knows, maybe knitting club day?

Some indistinguishable noise comes my way. I was right. It was a party. I hear the bedroom door slam shut. Then the bedroom door slams open and the bathroom door slams shut. And then the bathroom door slams open again. Then nothing. Then:

'Why are you in the stair case?'

'I am painting the stairs.' I answer proudly.

'Oh! I don't like the colour. Too dark.' A door slams shut somewhere above me. I was right. It was definitely a party. I look at my pot of paint. I like it. And after all I must not forget: this is my house. 

Had she been back from a knitting club outing I could have explained that I could start with every second step. So she could still get down the stairs. But as she is back from a party and not being very cooperative, I will just do all the steps, one by one all the way down.

This is great. I am thinking that I could become a decorator. You just paint away and you can really notice the difference it makes. Unlike bringing up kids. You get to see all the wooden pegs and the square metal nails, the marks in the ancient wood. All this must have been done by hand, with real wood ... My thoughts start to wander. It is so quite in here now. Miss Party-Head must have fallen into a deep sleep. I finish the job and head downstairs. I clean the brushes. I have a cup of coffee. I go back up and do the bits I missed and takeoff the tape and clean up. I stand and admire the results! Julien was excellent at woodwork! (See macheresimone blog). Still no one moves. 

I go downstairs and plan the next step in my decorating project (picture frames and plant pots). I plan dinner and still no noise from upstairs. I am beginning to think I should do more DIY projects as they seem to be peace-inducing when suddenly I hear a familiar bang of a door up there. Then silence. Then the sound of the ukulele, played softly at first, then accompanied by some gentle humming. Such a peaceful household. 

Some time later my husband comes in. By now the ukulele playing is on forte mode and the singing is resonating down the stairs. He has to raise his voice a little to make himself heard:

'What's with the music and the singing?'

'I've been painting the stairs. She's kind of stuck up there. Which was great while she was sleeping ...'

He just looks at me. I know that look. It says that the office is exactly how I think it is: full of civilised people doing normal things in a quiet environment ...