Today, I give you the theme song from Green Acres, the fish-out-of-water show in the 60’s that flipped the concept of The Beverly Hillbillies. (Want to know how to do the fish-out-water plot? Watch a couple episodes of either program and you’re golden.)
One of the recurring characters in Green Acres was Ralph, a handywoman who was always working on something around the old homestead. Eddie Albert was always stepping on a hammer or walking into a ladder or fuming about the cost of the latest repair. BUT NO REPAIR WAS EVER, EVER FINISHED.
For six weeks, a painter has been working hard here at the old Hall homestead, putting in two or three hours a day, a couple times a week. For six weeks, he has popped up outside my window, literally five inches from my face, while I try to concentrate on producing scathingly brilliant paragraphs. For six weeks, Libs has barked her fool head off for a goodly potion of the time he has spent here. In six weeks, he has found seven other things wrong with my house and needed to talk to me–in my pajamas–at least 27 times. In six weeks, he has sent me about a dozen new estimates for the work.
Yesterday, I finally paid my Ralph for the job.
But he’ll be back in a month to paint that board (the one around the garage that isn’t quite “cured” yet). All I got to do, says he, is give him a call and he’ll be here, bright and early (to see me in my fall pajamas).
Because, said my painter, when he gets a job, he likes to finish it.
Cathy C. Hall Writes 
It sounds like one of two things:
You either have the makings of an article on writing while “life” goes on around you–full of important advice along with humorous tidbits.
Or, you have the material necessary that–if you twisted reality–for a novel. What kind of relationship develops between Cathy C. Hall and the painter? Is the painter–at his core–a real writer as well? Dp they collaborate on some pieces? Is he her drip-covered critique partner? Does a romance form?
The possibilities are endless… 😉
I don’t know if six weeks is quite enough for a novel, Sioux. (Though it felt like six months!) Endless possibilities, indeed! 🙂