Paint It, Black

Some of life's events don't condense intuitively into four panels.

This would be just such an event.

It began innocently enough when I decided to take apart my bulky, worthless air conditioner in the master bedroom. It was my suspicion that it served as the central hub to illegal insect migrations. As I began removing pieces to clean them, the thought occurred to me: why keep it at all?

That thought was soon answered by the realization that removing the unit would leave a hole, roughly 3'x2', from my bedroom into the parking lot. Such a hole, unguarded, would allow the free travel of much bigger menaces.

So I thought harder.

As I continued stripping away bits of its exoskeleton, it grew smaller, more manageable, which was good. So good I decided to remove the bulky pipe running through the wall into the second bedroom. Of course, removing the pipe ruined the paint and left a hole clear through, measuring about eight inches squared.

So I picked up some drywall patches, and when those turned out to be just too small, I spackled some cardboard into place to fill in the gaps. Good as new. Well, except for the obvious dent and bumps of a poorly covered eight inch by eight inch hole in both rooms, which could be cured by paint, dark, dark paint.

Black walls are things everyone wants as a kid, but somehow it is just another dream lost with maturity.

Fuck that.

I love black walls. I may be old fashioned, but I feel lightbulbs should work for a living. If a paint doesn't absorb every band of light, it is a waste of money. Etcetera.

Of course, this still left the task of dealing with the mechanically exposed air conditioner and insect passageway. Well, dear readers, herein lies my true genius: Extending from the wall at a length of about seven feet, width of about two feet, is a custom built window seat/sarcophagus. Nobody need know an air conditioner ever existed. Not the houseguests, nor the landlord.

I am so clever.