Painting.....

It's one of those jobs, along with an electrician, that would take some sort of a ridiculous salary to entice me to make a career out of it. Painting! Even at a young age, it was never the occupation that jumped out at me in the guidance counselor's office. Jamie and I now joke (with very sarcastic undertones) about how the 'fresh paint' in most of the rooms fit our color palette and was a lot of work that we wouldn't have to immediately undertake. Blah, blah, blah, blah! Two years later those thoughts have left the building. It's amazing how the longer you live in a house the more things you now notice that need attention. Why are you so blinded by these things during the showing process? And it's not like I am easily sold. Ask Jamie, or probably her mom, who showed the houses to us, just how picky I am. Jamie calls it obsessive-compulsive and I call it disciplined and thorough. Now don't get me wrong, we love our house and as far as I know we don't have any REAL problems *knocking on wooden desk*. I'm talking about how the previous owners slapped up some paint real quick before sale that allowed 'freshly painted' to be used in the listing description. Then two years later when I'm solitarily staring off into oblivion at the dinner table eating one of those aforementioned salami and cheese sandwiches, I notice hues of white peaking through under that 'beautiful forest green' paint job in the family room. Those cheapskates! How could they! Only one coat of paint? Who does that? No primer in the bathroom over the wallpaper glue they failed to completely remove that later pitted out the drywall? Idiots! So, periodically, over the last couple months, me, my paint brush and I have been moving from room to room trying to please my obsessi...err ugh, perfectionistic mentality.

I started in Jamie's bathroom, more commonly known as the guest bathroom upstairs. I know there is a double vanity in the master, I know! She doesn't use it. For once, my male grotesqueness warranted me something pleasant....the entire master bathroom all to myself. And, I didn't even ask for it! After I removed all of the 1980's half-corroded, brass hardware and light fixtures, I had to sand down and spackle all of those places where the wallpaper glue and steam from the shower managed to pit out the walls. Then I applied a nice coat of primer, without opening up a window or even turning on the exhaust fan that allowed me the pleasure of not only smelling it, but also tasting it with each and every exhale the following day on my 15 mile long run. Once it had dried over night, I finally arrived at the stage that elicits the slightest amount of fun....seeing the color on the walls. This is why painting is such a sinful task....it takes 3 days just to prepare to do what you wanted to do in the first place. Anyway, I poured the paint into the tray on the floor and began trimming in the window. Upon completion, I did what any man does at the first checkpoint en route to accomplishing a major task....step back and admire my work...err ugh....make sure I didn't miss any spots. And just as that neuron fired, reminding my brain that the paint bucket was right behind, my heel caught the rim....and it-went-EVERYWHERE! Walls, trim, carpet, foot. Immediately, a barrage of expletives began to spew savagely from my mouth alerting Jamie that there was a catastophe at hand. She ran upstairs and tried to sop it up but since I was handicapped with 'mystic-mountain blue' feet, I wasn't of much immediate service. Then, thanks to my lifeguard training, after 'surveying the scene' and checking for a pulse I dialed 9-1-1, which coincidentally is my professional painter neighbor's cell phone number as well. She must have paralleled Usain Bolt's Olympic 100m dash down the street because she was at the house in less than 30 seconds. Then, a lot of cold water, blotting, mopping, and toothbrushing the woodwork in the bathtub later, peace was once again with us. And, we even managed to scoop up enough of the paint from the floor to finish the job....cheapskate!

Now, as I sit here writing this another bathroom, stairway, and hallway later, I am happy to report no more major catastrophes. However, I still have a foyer, living room, and kitchen to go with 3 more gallons of Sherwin Williams 'Mexican Sand' waiting to shine. I better go!