Wednesday-Thursday

Wednesday was another productive day for Ben. His brother Owen and his friend Caroline came over to help him out. Together, they sanded and stained the kitchen cabinets. His kitchen was starting to look like an actual place to eat, not a scene from a horror movie. The three of them were making quick work of painting his bedroom. 

Caroline was using a step stool to paint above his patio doors. "So you've been sleeping in this creepy house with no curtains?"

His brother snorted unattractively. 

Ben rolled his eyes. " The house isn't creepy."

"Yes, it is." Owen and Caroline responded simultaneously. 

Ben dipped his roller in paint. "It's not creepy. It has character."

Caroline hopped off the footstool. She brushed back some of her blond hair that escaped her ponytail. She smeared green paint across her forehead. "This house has the same amount of character as Amityville."

Ben put his roller down and walked over to her. He lifted the hem of his shirt and used the relatively clean inside to wipe the paint from her forehead. "My house is not haunted. It just needs some attention."

"Benny," his brother chimed in, "joking aside, I think it's really great you bought this house."

Ben shot Caroline a smug look.

"I'm sure the ghosts agree. They've probably been lonely."

Caroline cackled. 

He grabbed her paintbrush and smacked his brother with it, smearing paint across his chest. 

By the time they were finished with the room, they were covered in paint. 

All of Ben's furniture was still in the garage, so they laid out some drop cloths in the living room and ate pizza on the floor. 

"You got any beer, Benny?" Owen asked between bites of pizza. 

Caroline wrinkled her nose. "You're disgusting." She said to Owen. 

He wiggled his eyebrows at her and showed her the chewed food in his mouth. 

" I got some in the fridge." Ben smacked his brother on the back of the head on his way to the kitchen. 

Ben was glad they managed to change the kitchen lights. It was brightly lit, and he noticed the beer bottles immediately. They sat inconspicuously on the kitchen island. He didn't remember grabbing them before ordering pizza, but he must have. He touched the side of one of the bottles. It was cold. He looked around the kitchen and saw nothing else suspicious. Ben shrugged and grabbed the bottles. Owen's loud laughter echoed through the house. He grinned and hurried back to the living room.

Thursday

Ben woke up excited to get his room put together. The sunlight poured through the patio doors and the windows in his room. He loved that his room got so much sun. It had only been a few days since he moved in, and his room was unrecognizable. The floors were still worn and old, but they were clean. They even shone. 

The walls were no longer a dingy white. The light green color was enhanced by the sunlight filling the room. He stretched out with a groan. It would be nice to get his mattress off the ground. He could put some curtains up so he could stop getting freaked out by the eerie darkness at night. 

He ate breakfast and spent some time checking in on his work projects. His quick trip to the hardware store turned into him spending way too much time and money. He didn't realize how much he would enjoy wasting time in the hardware store when he bought a fixer-upper. 

When he got home he gave his room a quick vacuum and mopping before he put down the new rug he picked up at the store. 

He spent the afternoon putting together his bedframe, which should have been an easy task. It was the same bedframe from his apartment. It was easy to take apart, but it was proving a struggle to put together. 

He reached his hand out to grab the drill and found nothing. He groaned as he held the corner pieces of the bed together with the screws in his mouth. He used the drill just a minute ago. How could he have already misplaced it? He adjusted his hold on the bedframe and reached around with his other hand, patting the space around him. 

He closed his eyes and leaned his head on the cool metal of the bed frame. He wasn't going to get mad. He was not going to be the man who got angry and yelled at inanimate objects. 

His arms ached from the awkward hold he had on the bedframe. 

When he opened his eyes, the drill was there, sitting innocently in front of him. Where he knew it wasn't a second ago. 

How odd. 

He shrugged and picked it up. He was getting hungry, and the faster he put the bed together, the sooner he could eat.