So, you’re trying to paint your deck in between hurricanes. You wait for day-long lulls among the showers. Things come out fine at first because the sun shines long enough.
Then you dart out on an afternoon when the drying is too short (it wasn’t supposed to be, though). You dip your brush into the paint and slather it on… dip and slather… dip and slather…
Then an ultrasoft mist wafts in while the sun still shines. But you know these acrylic paints well; they need only an hour to shed their tacky. So, you bravely gamble and finish the railing anyway. You note with relief that it seems to dry quickly despite the mountain’s visible humidity.
Relieved, you go inside, pop a brew, prepare and sup on organic veggies and brown rice with steamed jumbo wild-caught Carolina shrimp. Oops! Outa cocktail sauce. Mix some horseradish into leftover marinara. Not too bad. Not great, either, but quite edible. Just add salt.
Morning comes. Awakening in bed, you hear pouring rain. You don’t care; you are warm and dry, and the pillow is so soft. You arise, remind yourself what Forrest Gump said to President Clinton, whistle out a Cyndi Lauper fun tune, eat a toasted Asiago and jalapeño bagel, grab an oversized mug of honey sweetened French-roasted coffee, and step outside to greet the dawn and admire yesterday’s handiwork.
Oh well, it needed two coats anyway.
