The City of Cambridge offers its residents one day every other month during which they can dispose of hazardous waste. Because we were out of town for September’s drop-off day, our neighbors took two cartons of I-don’t-know-what to the collection site for us. But we didn’t think we should ask them to take the thirteen cans of paint we had in our basement.
So for the last six weeks, because you can put dried paint in the regular trash, I have been watching paint dry, paint that matches every room in the house, base coat, egg shell finish, whatever.
I developed a routine. On the patio step in early morning sun. On the patio table at noon. Mid-afternoon in the backyard sun. And, at near-sunset, on the front stoop. In the garage if it rained.
A week ago, someone suggested pouring the paint in a thin layer in a paper box cover lined with newspapers and rolling the newspapers up when dry. Not bad, once I got the hang of it. Then someone suggested kitty litter—great idea, but I was close to the end.
Peter, who is not a fan of golf, says watching it on TV is like watching paint dry. I get it.