'Twas The Night Before Quartz

by Curtis Blais (with a little help from Copilot - AABB Rhyming Scheme) 

’Twas the night before quartz, and all through the house,
Not a creature was stirring, not me or my spouse.

The cupboards were covered, the railings all tight,
In paper and plastic, not one thing in sight.

The prep work was endless, Amanda precise,
Each corner and crevice, all wrapped up so nice.

Her list, like Saint Nick’s, is checked once and then twice,
Each task marked with care, each detail precise.

No smudge goes unnoticed, no shortcut allowed,
Her standards are high—and we’re perfectly wowed.

Though progress seemed hidden beneath every sheet,
We knew that the outcome would truly be sweet.

Our offices sealed while the spraying commenced,
With tape on the doorframes, the tension was dense.

Yet we whispered, “Be patient,” through paper and mist,
For each wrapped-up room was a future-day gift.

The windows were hidden, the stairs out of view,
Each surface encased in a painter’s debut.

With tape on the trim and the floors tucked away,
We wandered through hallways in paper ballet.

“It’s Christmas,” we chuckled, “just look at this stack—

Each surface wrapped tight in its paper and plaque.

When the wrapping comes off, white quartz will gleam bright,

With veining that dances in bold black and white.

Though patience wears thin as the prep work goes on,

We trust in Amanda—she’ll get it all done.

The brushes may rest, but the vision is clear,

Each stroke will bring beauty, precision, and cheer.

When the paper comes down and the tape’s finally peeled,

A masterpiece waits to be proudly revealed.

The trim will be flawless, the ceilings like new,
With edges so crisp and each wall the right hue.

Amanda’s fine touch, with her team by her side,
Will leave us in awe—and a little teary-eyed.

The house breathed anew, with each surface aglow,
A gift wrapped in patience, revealed row by row.

And we heard her exclaim, as she turned out the light,
“Merry painting to all—with each line crisp and tight!”

Sawdust, Squeaks, and Spray-Magic: The Road to Renovation Glory

by Curtis Blais (with a little help from Copilot - AABB Rhyming Scheme) 

It's been a few weeks since the last post as we had traveled to Vancouver and there was lots of painting while we were gone.

The island came in piece by piece,

Its size and style? A showstopper feast.

A centerpiece that steals the show,

With space and flair in every row.

The garbage cabinet took its time,

They shaped it right — precision prime.

Green bin and trash now snugly fit,

A custom job, they nailed each bit.

The wine fridge saga took a turn,

I canceled once — a lesson learned.

Reordered fast, with hopeful cheer,

But still no fridge... it’s nowhere near.

I won’t name names, but here’s a clue:

You’d need good Visions to see it through.

All talk, no action — quite the tease,

Still waiting on that wine to please.

Amanda’s crew came back in style,

With plastic, tape, and paper pile.

I fled my office, deck-bound bound,

To dodge the wrap that wrapped around.

No blog posts lately — here’s the scoop:

The painting’s involved, a patient loop.

Perfection takes a painter’s grace,

Each stroke a masterpiece in place.

While we were off in Vancouver’s charm,

The railings stained — a quiet alarm.

Trim got sprayed, and wow, it gleams,

Amanda’s work fulfills our dreams.

I caught her late one evening there,

A light in hand, inspecting air.

She sanded specks so small, so slight,

Chasing shadows with her light.

She left a sign, a sweet surprise,

A note of joy beneath the skies.

I kept it close — a thoughtful touch,

Might use it later, means so much.

The trim’s just coat one, still to go,

She’ll re-wrap all for her next show.

Spray-magic waits for base and floor,

Then she’ll return to do much more.

The garden called — it was that time,

I used the island, felt sublime.

A plywood top, some veg to prep,

A harvest small, but full of pep.

A floorboard squeaked, a stubborn sound,

I tried all tricks — none could be found.

Cut out a piece, still no relief,

Till basement sleuthing brought belief.

Two nails removed, some screws in place,

The squeak was gone without a trace.

A furnace room, the final clue,

And now the floors feel fresh and new.

Quartz was measured, clean and tight,

In just a week, we’ll see the light.

Stone laid down — a kitchen’s crown,

The heart of home will soon be found.

The floors get prepped, the planks will glide,

These steps bring progress we can't hide.

Each board and counter, placed just right,

Will bring this dream into the light.

Excitement builds with every day,

The end is near — we're on our way.

Soon life returns, a calmer scene,

Where meals and moments feel serene.