Tin roof, rusted.

The heat broke on Thursday of last week, just in time for our Saturday painting party. Humidity was low and the sky was the kind of brilliant deep blue that makes you want to just dive right in. We got rolling around 10 a.m.: my father arrived first, followed by mom, sister, and then Gina's parents and her cousin's family. My father, who happens to abhor heights, climbed right up on the ladder and got to work.

By noon we had tackled half of the front and part of the West side, and I realized then that I had vastly underestimated the amount of paint needed for the building. The five gallons of Behr fence & barn paint was almost half gone, and we weren't even close to finishing the first coat.

By 6 p.m. we had finished two of the largest sides. The rear and the East side still need to be done, but they're fairly small and I can probably tackle them in the evenings after work.

It's unbelievably satisfying to get even a portion of this project completed. If nothing else, it makes my wife happy because the property doesn't give off that "I'm abandoned" vibe. Like anything, though, this project begets more projects. When we ran out of paint about 5 p.m., I climbed up on the lower roof to scrape the East side, which hadn't yet been tackled. Looking at the old corrugated roof I realized it's also in dire need of replacement. All things in time.

I completely blew off doing work on Sunday, though. It was another beautiful day and I climbed on the motorcycle and went out for a two-hour ride. There was a moment of guilt, but it quickly passed.