My basement
As many of you know, I moved in with my sister into her new house (new to us, but built in 1929) and we have had a lot of projects. Our current project is the kitchen, which needed a complete paint job, new floor, and new molding. With the help of my sister and my own motivation to have it done, and then a surprise paint job from a friend of ours who is quickly becoming our Houseboy, we finally have the kitchen painted. But that leaves the floor and the cabinet doors and drawers.
On Saturday, while the Houseboy and Marie painted the last bit of the kitchen, I carted the doors and drawers down to the unfinished basement and set up shop at a couple of workbenches. After getting everything I needed, and using this great cordless drill/screwdriver to remove all the hinges, gifted to me by the Houseboy, I went to work sanding away. There is something methodical and comforting in the motions of sanding and vibrations of the motor. With two hands I gripped the sander and my mind went into a peaceful state of concentration. I wouldn’t say my mind was completely empty (I can remember replaying some silly shows plots around in my head a bit) but I do think it’s the closest thing to meditation that I have ever done.
After the sanding was done, I went upstairs to grab the portable radio and a beer, thanked our Houseboy for bringing the half rack over and for the helpful electric screwdriver, checked out his shirtless display, then headed back down to what had become my temporary sanctuary. I immediately put NPR on and began priming. In the midst of priming, the Houseboy brought me down some potato chips, which I gratefully accepted.
It wasn’t long before I was entranced by the priming. With perfect precision I did the edges and the fronts of the doors without dripping or pooling. In the background I realized I had become completely engrossed in Marian McPartland’s Piano Jazz show on NPR. If you haven’t ever listened, she is this amusing and talented woman who has musical guests come on her show and play with her while they discuss their musical histories, their colorful lives, and reminisce about the greats. It is amazing to listen to because she is so humble yet no matter what the guest wants to play, she is able to accompany on her piano. Her guest on Saturday was trumpeter Jon Faddis whose mentor was Dizzy Gillespie, so his stories were incredible.
By the end of her show I realized that I had discovered a new pleasure. Not the jazz show per se, for I had listened to her before, but instead the enjoyment of having a workshop and a project, and the time to escape into it.
What could be better than NPR, a cold beer, potato chips, and a satisfying project? Now I know why my dad spent my life in his garage.
