I Was a Male Stripper

Over the winter a pipe burst in the church lounge — water ruined the carpet, and steam damaged the wallpaper.  It took time for the insurance settlement to settle, but once that happened work on the room has progressed.

Last week a crew of volunteers from the congregation began to remove the damaged wallpaper in anticipation of painting.  I assisted them Monday morning.

The secret to stripping off old wallpaper, I learned, is liberal application of fabric softener cut with warm water.  Two spray bottles applied the blue, milky mix, and soon the paper came off.  I must have a gift for this task, other workers said, as huge swaths of the stuff practically fell off the walls into my hands.  (Earlier work had been more laborious.)  Since I’d never peeled wallpaper before, my coworkers concluded this must be one of my hidden talents.

“I should add stripper to my resume,” I said.

“You could be a male stripper — they make more money.”

“I’ll write my autobiography, I Was a Male Stripper.”

Thus my career as a male stripper began at church on a Monday morning.  I’m following the example of the Apostle Paul, “I have become all things to all people so that by all possible means I might save some.”  Or at least save a lounge.