Nope, the incredible outburst of toys does not indicate an early Christmas. We just. don’t. care.
I’m working on the painting project from hell and really can’t be bothered with directing toy cleanup as well. Ever since the marathon in mid-November, I’ve been trying to get ready for Thanksgiving break, five and a half days of uninterrupted painting our bookshelf and entryway that have been waiting to see some action since late July.
As Daniel hung my curtain rods last weekend before the paint-a-thon was about to commence, I had a revelation.
“The yellow’s got to go,” I told Daniel with color-authority in my voice. “I just don’t like it.”
Surprisingly, he didn’t object… too much. “Are you sure you want to repaint the walls?” he asked me.
“No, I don’t want to, but I just don’t like it.” (The paint chip had looked like more of a neutral color than a bright yellow. Others agreed with me.) He didn’t respond for a moment, and then suggested we go brown this time around.
“Ok,” I thought, “I can work with that.”
Wednesday morning we rushed through Alice’s school work and ran to Lowes for some more supplies, including brown paint chips, but it was mid-afternoon until I had the space cleared and was ready to go, only to discover I had about a cup of primer in the can.
I thought I was going back to Lowes until Daniel convinced me to use some primer in a five gallon bucket his father had given us. I had tried to use it on the walls earlier, but hated it. It was full of bits of dirt/dried paint, plus not handy to use because of the five gallon bucket aspect (i.e. I can’t get the lid off without help).
But to make Daniel happy, I got the junk strained out of a gallon of “his” primer and was finally! painting away at 4pm when the phone rings; it’s Daniel’s dad.
“Uh… ok, I’ll tell her,” I heard Daniel say. After some more conversation, Daniel walks into the living room and tells me that “his” primer isn’t going to work after all; it’s not an adhesive primer.
At this point, my man felt badly that he led me astray and decided to make it up to me. First he drove me during Thanksgiving-Eve-rush-hour to a shop that sells Benjamin Moore paint Ok, his dad recommended a certain Benjamin Moore paint for the finish on the bookcase, but Daniel told me to get all my paint there, including the gallon for the walls and the primer.
I’ve spent years! wondering if better paint really is everything people say it is (specifically one coat coverage which will be really! nice for re-doing my living room walls), so now I’m excited to find out. But it got better because my man also took the family out to eat since we didn’t go last Sunday when we were planning to due to Alice’s cold. (Daniel, you’re forgiven!)
Finally painting again by 7:30pm and spent the rest of the evening there.
Thursday morning I’m pumped to break out the green primer (not the actual finish color, again a recommendation by Daniel’s dad), and this is what it looked like at lunchtime.
Things are going along very nicely until I decide to take a trip… off the ladder. I managed not to dump the tray of paint I was moving, but I did sacrifice my thigh. Oh my, it hurt. I didn’t look at it right away and forgot about it until the next morning when I bumped it (ouch!).
As I’m cleaning up Thursday afternoon, getting ready to go to my brother’s for Thanksgiving dinner, I feel a tickle in my throat. “Must be from all the paint fumes,” I decide and continue on my way. By the end of the evening, it’s official… I’m not feeling well, and neither is Daniel.
Today we look mostly like this:
My post-Thanksgiving thoughts include trying to be thankful I have a daughter who can share her cold with me, and also fantasies about a man or woman wielding a paintbrush and expending a lot more energy than I have. I did manage a few hours of painting this morning, but have now resorted to the couch… and waiting a few more days to find out if expensive paint is actually worth what we spent on it.
Hope your Thanksgiving was great, and you can rest, relax, and enjoy the weekend.