During the school year, I'm surrounded by women. It's what I know. It's what I'm used to. It's what makes sense. But I have discovered a new world this summer. It is a world of men.
Now, for the most part, I can hold my own. During the long hours of painting at my two jobs, I can be one of the boys. Want me to haul five gallon buckets of paint up the stairs? No problem. Need those bunk beds moved out of the way? I got it. Want me to spend hours on the a ladder trimming popcorn ceilings and ignore the amounts of stuff falling on me? My ballcap and I can handle it. Want to make up some lame excuse as to why I'm better qualified to do all the trim work while you take on the roller? I can deal with it.
And then today happened. I showed up to my apartment painting job with my bag of supplies. Just your basics--paintbrushes, extra paint cup liners, rags, and the all important toilet paper. (These are vacant apartments, after all.) I walked through the apartment assessing the situation when I discovered a big problem. It wasn't the incredible wall of odor that hit me when I walked in the door. It wasn't the fact that the windows were open on a day when the expected high was 107. I've done this long enough to deal with these factors. The problem was the lack of a toilet!
I remained calm. I didn't react. I waited to see what the menfolk had to say. The solution was simply to use the bathtub as a toilet of the day. What??? Use the bathtub??? Now, I can roll with most situations, but this was asking a bit too much. Determined not to sound like the wimpy girl, I grabbed my brush and started my designated job of official trim painter. Hour 1 passed. Hour 2 passed. All was well. And then hour 6 was upon us. It was time to face the situation. I put down the paintbrush and grabbed my keys. "And where do you think you're going?" I looked at them and simply said, "To remind myself that I am still a girl. I'll be back in five minutes."
