Unpaint My Deck

Unpaint My Deck

Decks fall in to the deep realm of neediness due to the amount of staining and upkeep they require. No outdoor stain or protectant, cheap or pricey, name brand or generic, has proven to withstand even one northwest winter. As soon as Jack Frost scrapes his frosty tentacles, it’s doomed. Come spring, all the effort put into staining and protecting its surface has vanished. The face of the deck is once again left bare and naked, dry and cracked; ready to stab splinters to unsuspecting soles.

Replacing the wood with Trex seems logical. Fake wood is better than an afternoon of pinching out slivers. It won’t fade or be a termite’s meal. But there’s another product on the market that boasts its ability to fill cracks and splitting areas—deck paint. It’s thick and gooey but costs less than a dreamy Trex. The trouble is, since it’s paint, one must select a color. When that one deciding is a ten year old girl, you may end up with light shade of red, also known as pink.

Some claim it’s a light shade red. In the movie The Hangover, one of the characters walks around with a messenger bag slung over his shoulder. His buddies ask him why he totes around a man-purse and his reply is, “It’s not a purse, it’s a satchel.” Much like our Hollywood friend, Tom says, “It’s not pink, it’s reddish.”

When I saw the finished product, Gia admitted she had wanted purple but Tom said no. When I asked why he allowed her to choose pink, he said it looked red to him; like cedar. I stood my ground that he just painted the deck a rather obvious shade of pink. I had evidence to back up my argument.

I brought out my tennis shoes, Boomsday T-shirt, and a container of raspberry ice cream which were surprisingly similar in color to the newly painted outdoor space.

Pointing to my shoes, I asked Tom what color he thought they were.

He turned away as he said, “You said they were red.”

“What color did you think they were when I bought them?”

There was no answer.

“Hello?”

“Fine. Pink! I said they were pink.”

“But the deck is red, you say?”

My point was made, but I sensed he wasn’t convinced. I reminded Tom that he won’t wear the Bloomsday T-shirt in public because he believed it was pink.

“No, I said it was salmon.”

“If salmon were orange or red you’d wear the shirt. If salmon were pink you won’t wear it, so…”

I thought I heard a low protesting grumble under his breath, resembling the phrase "It's not pink it's reddish." (Refer back to the movie quote: It's not a purse, it's a satchel.)

As far as the frozen dairy treat is concerned, I scream, you scream, the raspberries in the ice cream scream pink.

He has painted our deck pink. I wanted to return to the store and supervise the choosing of the paint color and start again.

“C’mon it’s not that bad,” Tom said.

His remark sparked a melody from Tony Braxton that played in my head “unpaint my deck….make me love it again….”

It is that bad. Even the reflection on the ceiling inside the house shouts pink.

I express my disgust to the point where Tom said, “Give it a month and if you still don’t like I’ll repaint it.”

It’s been a month and I'm still waiting for someone to unpaint my deck. Maybe Jack Frost can strip it off this winter.

Copyright 2019 Jennifer E. Miller