You have to admire the concentration of the Chang: when he paints he paints and nothing can blur his focus, not the floor on which he's dribbling, not the bedroom lampshades he's generously slathering in emulsion, nothing. Silk doesn't really take to scraping, so they're ruined. On the first floor the drippings seeped into the concrete and are now preserved for all eternity under a layer of crystalline sealer; looks horrible where it's black. The only option is to sand the sealer down in those places, paint the splotches over thinly with the grey wall paint and seal it again. Luckily the sealer turns it roughly the same colour as the concrete, and if it's not overdone it'll serve. I nonetheless threw another screaming tantrum and cut 2,000 baht off Nek's total, which leaves zero.
The welder plumbed -- so why don't I call him the plumber? -- quite well I think. He'll finish that today, attach handles to the first-floor windows, and patch all manner of holes with cement and generally tidy up. The useless pair spent another day desultorily scraping things off floors. The he-useless tends to wander off halfway through some minor task in search of more moonshine, and when he comes back he's forgotten where he was. Sad, of course, except he then bellows at the little wife to get a move on.
P.S. 'Quite well' my arse.
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