DryLok and Hard Rock


Here’s a photo of the downstairs beer fridge that I posted last year. Note the wall behind the fridge and keep in mind that the photo doesn’t do it justice. The walls of this room were painted this ugly florid orange sometime in the early 70s, back when my brother was a ping pong fanatic. In fact he still refers to it as the ping pong room. It is a truly hideous sight to behold and my wife shudders every time she sees it. These walls are cinder block circa 1959 and they are susceptible to mold and moisture. Last year around this time I had grand plans to paint this room. Last year around this time I fractured and shattered my ankle.

In the last few weeks I’ve been scrubbing the walls with bleach solution to get the black mold and scraping off the white salt efflorescence. Today I began painting those areas with Drylok. I bought two cans of Drylock in January of 2014. Let’s just say it had some time to settle. When I opened up the first can what I saw was a light brown watery substance covering a mass of white sludge. I had some work to do. I’ve stirred old paint before but nothing is as resistant to change as this stuff. I worked it down to the consistency of a thick malt shake and then worked it down to the consistency of heavy cream. Per the Internet that’s about as good as Drylok gets. I had to experiment with a couple brushes and rollers before finding a big old brush of my dad’s that seemed to handle it best. Then I spent a few hours painting.

We moved the little CD player with the iPad dock downstairs a couple months ago and today I had my “Loosely Tight” playlist on shuffle. It’s a long playlist of deep tracks and some hits from the Band/Dylan/Stones/Faces/Zep/REM/White Stripes/Johnny Winter/Mott the Hoople/etc. Lots of greasy guitar riffs and haphazard drum rolls are perfect for slopping on paint this thick. I played it LOUD.

Now the carpal tunnel in my right hand is killing me as is my left ankle. But the sections of the wall that were moldy or salty are all painted, as are the corners of the room. Tomorrow I’ll go back and paint until my hands and ankle give out. Repeat until done. Pain builds character or pain just means I’m stubborn. Take your pick. But this job will get done. Then I’ll enlist my wife and we’ll paint this room and the one next to it colors that aren’t going to make guests of delicate sensibilities stagger to the fainting couch.

About jeroljohnson

I guess I'm the crying on the inside kind of clown
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