D.I.Y. = R.I.P.

I'm busy writing all weekend and my darling wife, Judith, is trying to paint the first-floor ceiling and kitchen. She's doing it with the for-hire help of a relative of a small business owner for whom we do website consulting (on content, not architecture) and promotional copywriting. Yes, Judith and I work together from time to time; she's got a great natural talent for sell copy and she's funny, too (studied and toured with The Groundlings). We're also collaborating on some children's book ideas.

Anyway, I mention this only because I want to publicly express my admiration to her for her energy and resolve, as well as my regrets and condolences. She's discovering the hard way why, for me, Do It Yourself has the same kind of ring to it as the phrase represented by the raised middle finger.

Judith loves all those wonderful cable shows where some professional contractor stands idly by and does nothing while some idiot with ten thumbs drives rivets through his feet... just because he tossed a coin and said "Heads, 'Home Makeover;' tails, 'Jerry Springer'."

Me? The very sight of Bob Villa gives me a dislocated shoulder. Besides, whenever I see power tools, all I can think of is Jason Voorhees. I feel sorry for Judith, but harbor no guilt: I did help prep the surfaces and move furniture, but she knew I had to be writing instead of painting today and tomorrow, hence the helper.

All this frenzied activity in the kitchen is also interesting because my office on the second floor is directly over the kitchen. And, oddly, my noise-canceling headphones seem to generate more noise than they cancel. OK, OK, I understand the concept of "white noise," but to me, noise is noise when I'm trying to concentrate; I don't care what color it is. Especially when I'm trying to summarize eight 12-issue comic book miniseries that tie into a year-long continuity-rearranging event in less than 750 words and my eyes are starting to bleed.

Which is why I'm not much good for blathering on today, lucky you (or is it too late for that already?)...except to address some ERRATA:

Regarding my post on Thursday, Joe Staton informs me that no, he's not going to be penciling Scooby-Doo after all, but will be doing something else interesting in the kids' arena, and that's all that is appropriate that we say about that.

He also informs me that he recalls that the inker of the Raggedy Ann samples -- and I am horribly embarrassed to have forgotten this, as he is a dear friend and one of the slickest and most underappreciated inkers in the business, as well as the third "above-the-line" collaborator with Joe and me on Plastic Man -- was actually BOB SMITH. But Joe didn't dispute that Bruce Patterson did the lettering.

And so, as Captain Spaulding sang, "Hello, I must be going." I can now actually hear a paint roller making its way across the other side of my office floor. I'd try to get my money back on the headphones, but I got 'em at The Sharper Image and, as you might know, they've become a parking lot, too.