I made my way over brimming with hope and vim -- to find the first floor painted a distinct shade of lavender boudoir. Oh dear, I said, maybe when it's dry... That is dry, they said. Such long hours I spent too, choosing the shade from the TOA 'palette.' Checking in the shop, it turned out that if you tip the sample away from the light, it does mysteriously take on a purplish tinge. It wasn't to be helped, so I bought another 2.5 gallons, this time making sure it was strictly black-based.
A soulful slip of a boy, about 12 years old, was working with Nun, and believe it or not he's quite good at painting walls. Within about an hour and a half he'd painted the boudoir with the new grey, which is just right and by sheer luck within the same spectrum as the floor. Nun, meanwhile, had paved me a balcony and cemented the iron frames both sides. Between them they achieved more in one day than all the useless dregs Nek had favoured me with taken together. The welding youth arrived with the glass panels just in time for the downpour, and they unloaded them and left.
The painter asked for 100 baht. It was the least I could do, especially since he'd asked me what colour I want the ground floor painted. White, I said, careful not to blink. Touch wood Nek's forgetfulness is for once working in my favour: I'd told him to leave the ground floor for the time being, but wouldn't I be a fool to bring it up?
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