At least the job is done ... ?

Yesterday I came home and the floor of the basement had been painted.

Now, just a little background here. Jack Bauer detested painting the walls the day before. He was dreading having to paint the floor, but knew it needed to be done. I was hoping that the sooner we he got it done, the easier it would be. The plan when I left for work on Monday morning was for him to look at buying the paint and move the rest of the stuff off of the basement floor. The painting might come later in the week or wait for the weekend if he really needed my help.

So I came home and the whole thing was done. Now just how did that happen?

As Jack was driving home from gym and on his way to Lowe's to check out tintable primer for the job, he saw a man in his late fifties standing at the light at the off ramp holding a sign: "Homeless. Experienced painter. Need money or work." My agnostic husband took that as a sign of the universe giving him what he needed. Jack went to Lowe's, got what he needed, then picked up a stranger from off the streets and brought Joe, the homeless painter, to our little bungalow.

Jack supervised the man's work without seeming overbearing and did not allow him upstairs. A bottle of water, an offer of lunch (which was declined), $100 for his pocket, and the homeless painter was back on the streets of Middleville. All before I got home.

Of course, I am happy that the job is done. And I am glad to see Jack come up with a solution that was relatively painless for him. But bringing a homeless man into our house makes me uneasy. For that matter, if he had just gotten the guy's name from a flier left on our doorstep without a reference we know, I would have made more even more uneasy. (I am having images of the whole Elizabeth Smart situation running through my head.) Jack assures me that he drove in such a convoluted manner to our house that Joe can't find his way back.

But the bottom line: the big painting in the basement is D.O.N.E. Woohoo!