While I sometimes force Boyfriend to sit with me while I work on projects, for the most part I sand, paint and prime all by myself. At the end of a long day, working on a project like the little pink desk (seen here, here and here) helps my mind unwind and it is practically therapeutic. After pretending all day to be a grown-up, painting with no lines to consider or conversation to keep up is relaxing. I just want to getaway and these little projects are my sandy white beach.
On my grouchiest days I want to be alone while I work, with only trashy reality TV and a Diet Dr. Pepper to keep me company. However, without fail, someone always follows me down to my project hideaway in the basement. Not caring whether or not I want company or how bad my day was, Jesse is right on my heels as I descend the basement stairs… that is, unless he trips over his monkey and tumbles down to the bottom first.
Jesse doesn’t really belong to me. He is kind of a rental… but don’t tell him I said that. His situation is confusing enough as it is for his tiny little dog brain. You see, his dad (one of my very best pals) lives in Wichita and has a job that requires him to travel with very little notice. He sends Jesse a check every month for his upkeep and stops in to say hi when he is in this neck-of-the-woods. We came up with this plan without stepping foot in a court room. (Well, pretty much I volunteered to watch the little guy until something more permanent comes along.) I would say he is the kind of my favorite thing out of all my stuff but that will give him a big head.
And sometimes he eats poop.
Jesse sprawls himself out on the floor of the Man Room (my dad’s workshop where I currently work on projects since it isn’t reliable weather outside yet) and faithfully waits until I decide I am done for the day. As I start to close up the paint can, Jesse always scrambles to his feet, leans back on his hind legs to stretch, leans forward to stretch his haunches and shakes his fur free of dust and wood shavings from past projects. He languidly walks to the door and waits for me to go upstairs. As we climb up the stairs, Jesse’s tail is always wagging and I am always glad he was there to keep me company.
As a little “Thanks For The Temp Dog!” for Jesse’s dad, I busted open a box of 96 Crayolas and colored a card from the both of us. It was cute and it smelled like kindergarten but I think we could do better. Project details to come!