The Niftiest Tiny Roller

Here’s a sad but true commentary. It’s so easy to overlook the small, itty-bitty breakthroughs in life when you’re looking for something Big and Earth-Shattering.

Take, for instance, holding out hope for a Painting Machine that would Show Up and take care of all the Rest of the Painting. I’ve been daydreaming about a first cousin to those robotic vacuum sweepers, the ones that work on auto-pilot. Only in my euphoric dreams this Machine spreads paint over the walls by itself (a skilled cliff climber) and even gets way up in all the ceiling corners, leaving not a single streak or drip. The Machine is disposable. One per paint color. And no clean up.

Sadly, such a device has not shown up to rescue me from the perils of stiff-necked (catch the two meanings, here) paint-job imprisonment. But I did have a minor breakthrough on a smaller scale today: the discovery of a mini paint roller called Tiny Trimmer – just a couple of inches long and maybe an inch in diameter as opposed to the mammoth Rocket Roller (the conventional size) that tries to take off and slip out of my hand every time I start rolling. Tiny is a more sophisticated option to a trim brush, only I found his versatility stretching way beyond trimming - to infinity and beyond. He’s now my best buddy, having won five stars in my Paint Roller Rating Book (just watch for this insightful publication to be released soon in your favorite hardware store).

I suppose you could say that after several hours of overt togetherness, I ended up falling in love. An excerpt from our recent dialogue:

Me: I’m sweating like a hog up here on this ladder, the bathroom fan is buzzing in my ear, the wet paint smell is enough to make me pass out and fall off the ladder, I’m getting grumbly-er by the minute (can you tell?), and I cannot reach that stupid corner on the back side of the tub where the streaks are.

Tiny: Oh! Let me help you! Just dip and squeeze! Now bend your knees. It’ll be a breeze!

Me: Don’t try to be cute, Tiny. This isn’t an aerobics class. And I’m definitely NOT impressed with your silly verbiage.

Tiny: Tra-la-la-la! (pensively) Can I take your picture, all duded up in your paint duds? Hold it…now pose…and freeze!

Me: CUT IT OUT! One more ditzy comment like that and I’ll drown you in the paint can! Gaaaaaa! And hold your head under until you DIE! I will!

Tiny: (pouting) I only want some attention. Couldn’t you just ‘try me’…please?

Me: Man! Would you cut it with the cute-puke rhyming words? You’re making me sick.

Tiny: Ah…ah…ah…(sigh)…I think I am about to sneeze.

Me: Stop it…STOP IT! You…you…you…you’re INSANE! You’re an imposter! Nothing can make this job easier – except, of course my ingenious Robot Painter…who…like too many knights in shining armor… has conveniently elected to skip out in favor of a jousting match with his buddies followed by a belly-up to the Bar…

Tiny: Oooooo, now you’re making me jealous. Is he…is he cute?

Me: Uh, who?

Tiny: Robot Painter, silly!!

Me: (exasperated) Yeah, he’s adorable. Really muscle-y. You know, he does rappelling on the side, sort of a hobby to keep in shape. Hmmmm, very muscle-y.

Tiny: Well, I’m NOT Charles Atlas. (pause…then defiantly) But I do a good job, and I’m dependable and loyal, and I will work with you until you’re done. AND, I have a great personality. (another pause) If that counts for anything.

Me: I DON’T WANT YOU TO BE CHARLES ATLAS! For crying out loud! You’re a stupid paint roller! And a miniscule, ratty, Chihuahua-looking one, at that!

Tiny: Well then. Since I am NOT going to be offended, and I AM loyal and humble by nature, and YOU are the one needing an attitude adjustment here…well then…you should at least try me in those corners, and those skinny places above and below the trim around the potty, and along the edge of the tile. Just in case I’m worth your time.

Me: I suppose so.

Tiny: (demurely, with a wink) You’re gonna love me, darlin’.

Me: Yeah, right. Love you…right. You’re so stereotypically male. All talk. All show, no go.

Tiny: Judge not, lest ye be judged…the Good Book says this. It’s a direct quote.

Me: So, according to you, Macho Mini-Roller, I have no choice in the matter. Of course. (scowls) So here goes nothing. (spreading paint evenly and quickly on the problem area) OH! (genuinely shocked) You’re…you’re DOING IT. You really ARE!

Tiny: See? Told you so. I’m pretty slick – small, but slick. (winks)

Me: I’m…I’m…(speechless and blushing)…well…(whispers under breath)…thanks, Tiny.

Tiny: No prob. Just goes to show, you can’t judge a book by its cover, or a roller by its size, lack of muscles, or even its superbly poetic communication skills. (clears throat for emphasis) Now let’s get to work…no more cryin’ in your beer, er, I mean paint can.