Rick Nelson and Claude Peck dispense unasked-for advice about clothing, etiquette, culture, relationships, grooming and more.

CP: You told me painting was easy. "If I can paint, you can paint," you said, with the breezy confidence of a cliff diver.

RN: I hope you realize that I was referring to the application of acrylic latex to drywall, and not replicating the collective works of Tintoretto.

CP: So I painted one white bathroom last weekend. With a fresh coat of white. Nearly had to check myself into a locked unit for supervision. Will I ever be able to trust you again?

RN: It can't have been that bad.

CP: Worse. For the prep, I used about 2 kilometers of that blue tape and an entire Sunday newspaper to protect window and floor. Then I brought out this cool-looking new pink spackle, said to indicate its dryness by turning white. More like, once it turns white, wait another two days. Jeez.

RN: Hey, at least you prepped. Not to be a Monday-morning quarterback, but maybe you should have started with a more basic project. A living room wall, perhaps.

CP: Maybe you should have started by urging me to hire a professional painter.

RN: Duly noted. And, meow.

CP: By the time I bought supplies, and a cute new painter-man outfit, I had spent about as much as I would have on a contractor.

RN: When, on a per-project basis, your MartinPatrick3 bill exceeds your Home Depot bill, might I humbly suggest you rethink your handyman priorities?

CP: I am so not listening. Oh, and rolling paint on a ceiling? Not fun. I was going through ibuprofen like Skittles.

RN: I hesitate to point out that, if memory serves, that ceiling is a smooth surface. Count your lucky stars you weren't trying to run a paint-soaked roller brush over a popcorn ceiling.

CP: Stop. I'll have nightmares. By the time I tried to patch some spots where the old paint inexplicably bubbled up like a bad case of poison ivy, my walls looked like they needed an appointment with our favorite dermatologist.

RN: I can't say that I'm madly in love with painting. Still, as long as I'm not required to perch myself on the upper reaches of a tall ladder, I find that painting falls under the "highly satisfying" category of the home improvement arts. It's one of the few fix-its that this Industrial Arts flunkie can handle.

CP: There you go again, encouraging people to do what they ought to avoid at all cost.

RN: What, like baking?

CP: It's not just the painting, there is the insanely tricky task of getting things like towel racks attached without creating major new holes in freshly painted walls.

RN: That sounds as if it involves power tools, and now I'm way above my pay grade.

CP: Maybe if I just lie down for a minute. Oh, look, there's a rerun of "Summer and Smoke" on TV.

RN: Pick up that brush, mister. That room isn't going to paint itself, and Miss Geraldine Page can wait. I'd offer to help, but … oh, would you look at the time? Gotta go.

E-mail: witheringglance@startribune.com

Twitter: @claudepeck and @RickNelsonStrib