Plan B

My brain almost comes up with a Schoolhouse Rock sort of song. It goes something like “My Hero, Zero” but extols the virtues of Plan B.

Where would we be without Plan B?

I feel a little sorry for Troy tonight. A few days ago there was a sparkle in his eye. He had bought off some guy a paint splotcher–that’s my name for it. It’s a fancy machine on wheels with a big several-gallon glop hopper and built-in compressor that spits out the texture at the walls.

This evening I was ready to assist him with wall texturing. The machine wouldn’t maintain adequate pressure and the relief valve just hissed and my concern shifted to wondering if we’d get the job done. Thursday is supposed to be primer day after all.

Ah, but Troy had Plan B and pulled out a separate compressor and a hand-held sort of hopper that reminded me of a large version of one of those liquid fertilizer sprayer you attach to your garden hose and water through.
Troy indeed completed the job beautifully and then he and I worked together to clean up the misbehaving machine.

We had to thrash the long glop delivery hose quite a bit to get it cleaned out. At long last when the half congealed drywall mud began to dislodge, it looked like a convulsing snake vomiting milk of magnesia. While everyone will conclude with that mental picture I’ve been at this way too long, I will say that Troy witnessed the scene and did agree that the imagery was aptly described.

So tomorrow is Primer Time and I will be using a different sprayer.

And Plan B involves rollers and brushes.

I sure hope Plan A works!