Three Inch Brush

i’m honing in on something insignificantly different about myself everyday.  things that could matter, but most likely don’t and won’t.  beats i drum, but that i have never taken the necessary seconds it takes to note.  i could probably make a list of a 100 new nothings that i’ve pinpointed about myself since slowing the show down.  from a numbers standpoint, it makes a lot of sense seeing that i have been here 100 days to the day.
for example, here was today’s trivial pursuit.  so lately i’ve been back in the work saddle.  it would be too difficult to explain my work day, so forget it.  much easier to sum up by saying i have my old friend back.  my good friend The Three Inch Brush is back in my hand.  left hand.  right hand.  look ma no hands.  upside down and all around.  one stroke at a time.  i’m the king of The Three Inch Brush.  not a pun. don’t even go there.
call me cocky, but it’s extra rare that I feel the need to tape anything off.  It’s that athletic challenge to be extra neat that fuels me.  with so much transparent stain work under my belt over the past ten years, working with paint is a cinch.  there have been several areas on this particular job site where taping off made a bit of sense.  and this is where my lesson about nothing took place.  the roses appeared. i stopped and took a sniff.

It’s like this:  When I pull tape,(Duct, Duck, Goose, Masking, Bar, Packing, Athletic, Electric, Scotch, and the like) I pull the tape with my right hand, and hold the roll with my left.