Dream of: 16 February 2004 "House Painter"

I was painting a thin two-story frame house in Portsmouth (while Carolina sat in a car and waited for me). I had started painting on the side where the porch was and had continued around to the front. The old paint had been peeling and the new paint looked much better. I was beginning to worry, however, because I didn't actually own the house (no one was in the house at the moment) and I couldn't remember whether I had permission to paint.  I thought I would talk with the owner and tell him I would paint the house for $500, including the paint. Hopefully he would pay me.

Walls was painting a house two houses away and I walked down to see him. Walls (who only looked about 40 years old and still had dark black hair) wasn't friendly and he said he didn't have time to talk. I couldn't understand why he was acting that way, but I turned and headed back toward my house.

A few minutes later Walls followed me and seemed more friendly. He acerbically mentioned the name "Backus" and I quickly figured out he was angry because he thought I was friends with David Backus (who was actually Arthur Swanigan, to whom I had rented one of my rental houses). I knew Backus was renting one of my houses on 11th Street, and I told Walls I wasn't friends with Backus, that he was simply my renter, and that I wasn't even happy with him as a renter because he never paid on time. I also pointed out that I had seen Walls with Backus one time and Walls had seemed to be "buddied-up" with Backus. Walls protested that he was no friend of Backus.

Walls also mentioned that Backus and his wife had recently gone skiing and Backus' wife had been arrested because she had been skiing on a slope without paying the fee. The story seemed to be typical of Backus – always trying to find some way to rip off someone, always taking chances. Apparently he had driven to the ski slopes in his old beat-up car with little concern about what he would do if the car broke down on the way. His life-style certainly didn't appeal to me; I wanted to have as little to do with him as possible.

Walls became even friendlier and began giving me some tips about painting. I appreciated his advice. I knew his father had been a house painter and I figured Walls must know a lot more than I about painting houses. I still wasn't sure I would paint any more houses; but I might start trying to pick up some extra cash from painting.