Ceilings
by N.W. Campbell
Anyway, this guy from Ohio—who, according to the evening news, was in the middle of a bad divorce, his girlfriend was pregnant, and the law was after him for embezzling a quarter of a million bucks, apparently to keep his girlfriend set up in the manner to which she was accustomed—headed west and stopped at Castleton. After the scene decontamination crew was done gutting and scrubbing, even to the studs in some places, I could still see flecks on the ceiling where blood and brain matter had stuck. Apparently the guys on clean-up that day didn’t bother to look up, either.
When they heard we got the job to paint it, one or two of the guys on my crew mumbled about the possibility of working on some other project. I get it. There was some minor dry-walling to do, so the bosses were leaving that to us and sending their drywall guys downstate to work on flood restoration. That turned off some of my painters, who prefer to just paint. Then again, some people are squeamish, even people who do what we do. Flood and fire damage doesn’t bother them, but blood and brain matter?
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