I am in the final stage of my kitchen remodel, the painting part. You might think painting is an easy job, you would be wrong. Painting the kitchen involves first, the removal of mounds, and mounds of Mark's kitchen gadgets, containers, and utensils. This is no easy task. As of this moment the dining room table and chairs are all covered with crap that I have removed from the kitchen. I then have to tape off all the areas I do not want paint on, Spackle the holes in the wall where Mark had hung everything from a cuckoo clock to a sack of pecans, and then sand down all the Spackle. There is a lot of Spackle because I have tried to cover the wall paper border in preparation for painting over that crap. My biggest problem is that I have to do this all alone. I have no help. No skinny, shopaholic, sidewalk foreman helping me. Just me... and the dogs. Luckily it's hard to see the paint on their mottled colored fur. It's not like when I was young, in my early twenties, and people would throw painting parties. I can remember a number of those. Some people supplied beer and pizza to entice friends to come and help, others supplied pot and pizza, while the truly brilliant would give each guest one amphetamine pill at the door and hand them a paint brush. You cannot entice people my age to come over and help you paint. No amount of promised wine, vodka, or drugs, which at our age would be Crestor, can get your old fart friends to come over and spend a day painting your kitchen. Not even if they live with you.