Yesterday, my older son pretty much completed painting the upstairs hall. It looks good and fresh and clean and what flaws there are remain pretty much camouflaged by the overall newness.
The rugs are where they had been and the pictures likewise. He scrubbed up the paint zits. He vacuumed.
Much to my gnawing dismay, my physical contributions to the project were limited, though I did have 13 years of experience in the past to call on and kibbitz with.
The upstairs hall is painted.
Now, as with all efforts that require actual and sometimes extreme effort, there is nothing left to do but forget about it.
Forget the unforgettable.