Jun 29, 2011

The bright idea of painting

Yesterday night my husband and I decided we needed to finally prime the sheet rock in the laundry/bathroom. It was my bright idea to start it. It had been fine for the last 2 or 3 months just as it was. I can be persistent though, so he went along with my plan.

We put the first layer of primer on. My husband effortlessly did the the area where the wall meets the ceiling. I am sure there are better words for that area, but I cannot come up with them now. He also did the four corners and around each door. I was in charge of painting the walls. I could do that, easy as pie!

Today my son and I went to Walmart. (Random thought: I am going to write and tell them that they need to lock the paint supplies up and only give them to people with varying degrees of perfectionism) If I ever need to paint again, it will be done with spray paint.  Not really, I am just acting tough.  I have to paint tomorrow.

The turny paint thing (photo from stock.xchng)
We get home and I excitedly run into the back room to get everything ready. My excitement and back were gone by the time I got the wretched lid off of the 5 gallon primer bucket. Who knew not only do you need to have some level of perfectionism, but you also had to have muscles?
So, my back hurt. I climb onto the first step of the ladder. I reach up and paint. I can only reach about a foot. There is no way I am going to go up another step, after all, we hear about those dare devils and what happens to them. I step down and move the ladder a foot. I climb back up. One step mind you. I reach. This goes on for about 5 more feet. Now my legs hurt and my back. I look at the whatever that area I am painting is called. Curse you!

I think to myself that there is a hole in the bottom of the corner painter thing-a-ma-bob for a reason. I stick the broom handle into this and it fits! I am going to send a big old hug to the inventor. I hope he/she is a millionaire because the person was genius! I finally finish doing the ceiling and wall intersection and all the corners. By this time, I am pretty sure Motrin should be included in the paint trays. Along with an idiots guide to painting.

Now it is time for my son to help. I promise myself if he messes up I will not say anything. That lasted for about 10 minutes. I apologize and tell him he is doing a great job, I am just wishing we lived in a glass house. I am taller than him so while he is painting the bottom of the wall, I get to use the broom handle and the turny paint thing and finish the walls.

Proof of what happened to me
When we get out of the back room, we realize there is paint all over us. I am not explaining how the paint got on the bottom of my foot or my sons head. (Can anyone say new floor is in the near future?) It is a secret that only painters of our status can do. I decide that he deserves to get clean before I do. While he is taking his bath, I look to see if there are any severe weather threats heading into the area... if it is going to mess up my paint job, I better take pictures so my husband will believe me.

How come does everything look so easy when someone else does it? Have you ever started a project and in middle of it you wish that you could just move into a house that never needed anything done again?

Share this if you want... I would like to beg but don't have anything except painted flooring to give you for sharing :) Also, there are little buttons up on the top right so you can follow me.


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