him, not me

i paint houses. there, i said it. i have spent the last twelve years trying not to say that. i say it from time to time only to provide clarity for the person doing the listening. i prefer to call myself an "interior painter"... it specifies exactly what i do, since i do not paint exteriors of houses... so i am not really a "house painter" (ooops, "Do I contradict myself? Very well then I contradict myself, (I am large, I contain multitudes")). i paint rooms in houses. it is all a clever/stupid/fun/deceitful game that i have played for years. i have simply tried to feel better about being a guy that paints rooms in houses... because, on the whole, it was never something that i had strived to become. not that there is much wrong with it, it is just not as creative as i need to be. and, after twelve years, i am completely at the end of my rope with this occupation. there is little reward to this job, the money is not great, the physicality is treacherous, the fumes are harmful, and the work is unchallenging. o.k., o.k, enough whining. i will be done with this career very soon. this gentleman has been doing it for three times as long as i, and he is still content with it. he did complain about the damage that the economic disaster has caused to his business, but he is not looking for a way out; this is who he is. it brings me great pleasure to meet such a man, and to know that there are good people out there that can continue to do this job for decades, and still reap satisfaction from the work. it brings me more pleasure to know that i am destined to quit for all of the right reasons.