I grumbled as Amy pulled out the first can of paint. Somehow, I'd been roped into spending a good part of my vacation helping her paint her new house. We'd been friends for a long time, and we'd dated very briefly. Yet whenever she needed help around her place, she always called on me.
This time around she had two rooms and a garage to paint. I figured that it would take at least two days to make it through all of this. Of course, I'd happened to have planned some vacation for the same week, so I was stuck. I didn't have an excuse not to help, unless you counted the fact that I just didn't want to.
We knocked out the two interior rooms on the first day. It was a long day, but she supplied me with plenty of beer and pizza when we were done. We made plans to start early the next day, since the garage was big enough to hold three cars easily. I was sure that it would take us all day.
I woke up sore the next morning from all the physical activity. It's not that I'm a wimp, but I'm tall and thin. I am more of a runner than someone who does repetitive motions for exercise. So I had a few aches going into the paint session.
Maybe I was just in a bad mood, but the garage was incredibly humid as well. The temperature today was supposed to top out at 90, which meant I'd be a damp rag by the end of the day.
Amy was already there. She'd opened a paint can and had started on the wall closest to the house. She had on a pair of shorts, a t-shirt and a bandanna around her head, but she still looked good. I grabbed a beer from the cooler, which raised an eyebrow. After all, it was only 8:30 in the morning. I didn't say a word, but popped the top off and took a long hit. I had the roller with the extension arm attached to it, so that I could reach the top of the walls without getting on a ladder.
I set the beer down next to the paint can and started. The extension arm made the work go fast, but I had to grab the pole in an awkward way to get it into the paint tray. We worked in silence for about an hour before Amy went inside and turned on some music. We both liked Pop and Country, so she'd picked a station she knew I'd like.
I finished off the first beer and started on a second. Amy was drinking water, which was probably a better choice given the temperature and humidity, but it was my vacation after all. By 9am, I'd worked up a sweat. I didn't have a bandanna, so I spent time wiping my face off with a towel.
Between the sweat and beer, it wasn't a huge surprise when I brought the roller up and managed to splash paint across the front of me. I wiped it off my face and neck, but the t-shirt had a wide swath of gray across the front of it.
I cursed, hoping that at least I'd get out of painting, but no such luck. Amy came up to me, wiped the paint off my arm and put her hand out. "Give it to me."
It sounded like a bad pick-up line at first or something from a porn movie, but that was just the buzz talking. I realized that Amy was going to wash my shirt. I peeled off the shirt and handed it to her. She paused for a moment, taking a long glance at my upper body. I realized that she'd never seen me shirtless before.
As I said, I wasn't a muscle guy by any means. I was lean with flat abs and a thin waist. Most of it was covered with a layer of hair that ran from my navel to my pecs. I started to feel a bit self-conscious, so I turned and started to work again. Amy went inside with the shirt.
I looked over at her when she returned, but she hadn't returned with another shirt for me. Granted that the day was incredibly hot and humid, but still I'd expected a little better hospitality.
She did order pizza for lunch, which was great, but I still felt a little odd standing around shirtless. We got back to painting, which was going much faster than I'd expected. For the wall above the garage doors, I had to rig up a couple of ladders and planks between them. It wasn't secure, and it definitely wasn't up to OSHA standards, but I thought it would do for the couple of yards I had to paint.
Amy didn't look convinced, and she kept her distance by painting around the door to the house and then the door to the outside. She did turnaround a few times to check on my progress, but even with two beers, I was steady on my feet.
I was getting ready to paint the last few feet of the wall above the garage doors when the paint can began to tip. I managed to grab the can of paint, but not before I got some more on my pants.
Amy was trying to suppress a smile, but I didn't look amused. I certainly wasn't going to let her take my pants from me. We were about done. I finished the last of the wall, and tapped the lid back on the can of paint.