Saturday, April 21, 2012

Burned at Tea Time

The holes in the ceiling and above the hallway are fixed now, and the complexion above the door, in particular, turned out very nice because you can't really see the repair, which I suppose is what plastic surgery is all about, except that it pays more.

I can't help taking pictures though, if only to remind myself that I'm not just wandering around the house with a bucket and tools.

Jam has become one of those corporate guys who can't move on from the accomplishments of his youth, even though the bathroom project is just a memory now. He will repeat the story to anyone who will listen, of how the project foundered until he came along and organized things.

The new project--refinishing and painting the doors and trim--is much more mechanical, much less sexy, so he is having trouble generating the necessary drama. Coincidentally, I am having the same problem.

Apparently I burned myself with the tea kettle. I turned it on, just there on the counter top, and then proceeded to organize the cabinet above. A smokey, fleshy smell entered my nostrils before I actually felt anything--the underside of my right arm was just inches above the spout, and I now have a big red hole where my skin used to be.

Not enough has been said in this country about the dangers of tea and tea accessories.

1 comment:

  1. You've just taken the "zen" of tea drinking to a new level. What kind of tea was it anyway...maybe I need some.