"But I wanted to turn the apartment over to you as a pristine jewel of a place," I told her.
"You will be giving me an even greater gift if you allow me to learn how to do it myself and enjoy the process of making it mine."
How could I argue with that? She manages me, that one.
The painters and I met for breakfast at the diner across the street from the home improvement store, then went and bought the paint and brushes and spackle and scrapers and paint pans.
"Oohhhh, this is just like icing a cake," my daughter said later as she smoothed spackle over picture hook holes in the wall.