I tried to think of a catchy title for this entry but I could not think of anything I liked so... just the obvious.
The night before the accident, Roger had been out in the pouring rain playing landlord.
The storm was bringing rain in from the side and rain was seeping into the living room of the rental house.
Great... (I had just decided to start straightening my hair chemically and was vainly spending money on that)
Roger found out that the house needed to be painted and that with sealing some cracks in the stucco would keep the rain out.
So being the responsible person he was, he immediately started contacting painters.
He set up a few people to come out and quote the house.
I have no idea what happened to those appointments and frankly I just did not care at that point.
My renters were awesome.
They dryed out the carpet and everything was fine.
But I knew, I would have to handle the painting decisions alone.
I put it off for a while.
I could not choose a color.
This was not my house.
This was Roger's house.
This was potential buyers down the road's house.
How the hell do I choose colors.
And not to mention I had to pick from a pre-defined list.
Grace helped me.
And then the renters helped me.
Then even the neighbors weighed in.
The renters do have to live in it and the neighbors have to look at it everyday so might as well get some decisions from them.
We settled on a grey with white-ish trim and a red-ish door.
Of course those are not the real name of the colors.
Then I found a painter.
I went back to Roger's emails and I found a guy who had actually talked with Roger that Thursday night almost six months ago.
He started painting the house yesterday.
I went over there just to see the progress.
It was so hard.
It is just a simple color change.
This should be no big deal.
I only lived there all of three months.
But I drove there and stayed 2-3 nights a week for over a year.
And this was Roger's house.
Even after I moved in, I referred to it as his house.
Roger would say "Let's go home."
And all coy I would say "Where?"
"To our home"
"Oh, you mean your house."
Geez, what a bitch...
The house looks nice.
The grey suits it well.
It's it just so different.
It's like the house is moving on.
So I cried on the way home.
Geez House, it's only been six months. Yes, yes, we moved out and left you well before that. But painting yourself a new color already?