Dirk Lotriet
2 minute read
21 Dec 2018
9:32 am

Merry Christmas, and may all your ceilings be white

Dirk Lotriet

Like everyone else, I have ceilings in my life that limit my growth and progression.

White paint. Picture: Facebook

Every muscle in my body aches as I write this column.

It’s the lovely Snapdragon’s birthday on Sunday and I promised her a new lounge. Complete with new couches and pretty nicknacks … and a white ceiling.

Since we moved into our humble little house four years ago, the gloomy pine ceiling in the kitchen/lounge/dining room area has bothered her. I promised to paint it white and managed to dodge the terrible task for 48 months, but this time there was nowhere to hide.

With the painful result that the two-year-old Egg and I have spent the last three days painting. I stood on a ladder for too many hours with my hands above my head while Egg painted everything in sight – trees, toys, herself, the cat – without laying a single paintbrush bristle on the offensive pine ceiling.

I’ll never be able to explain how a house with a small floor area such as ours can have a ceiling as big as a football pitch, but I’m married to Snapdragon – I’ve learned that some things in life should simply not be questioned.

But now it’s done and it is beautiful. The entire ground floor looks bigger and lighter with a modern feel to it.

But this won’t be the last ceiling I’ll grapple with in the next months. Like everyone else, I have ceilings in my life that limit my growth and progression.

And with the house’s ceiling out of the way, I’ll tackle these. I’ll remove the ones I can. I’ll have sympathy with every person who battles a ceiling in some or other way. And the ceilings I can’t remove, I’ll simply paint white.

Because if a white ceiling can put a huge smile on Snapdragon’s face, it can only make things much easier for me.

My dear Snapdragon, may you have a wonderful birthday and a great year ahead. And I hope I have the pleasure of your delightfully exhausting eccentricity until long after the seven-year guarantee on the ceiling’s paint has expired.

And do you see now? If I promise to do something, I will do it. There’s no need to remind me of it every six months!

To you, dear reader, I wish you a festive season filled with love and goodwill.

In our country I can’t wish you a snow-covered Christmas, but may all your ceilings, at least, be white.

Dirk Lotriet. Picture: Alaister Russell

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