Painted On Jeans

We are painting our house.

Well, we aren’t painting it exactly. This really nice guy that bears an uncanny resemblance to the actor that played Shaggy in the Scooby Doo movies is painting our house.

This little project is happening in three phases.  Back of the house first, middle and front.  It should be about a week of organized disorder. With each phase, we have to pack up all of our “movables” and get them out of the way.  Shaggy and his crew will move furniture, but holy crap I had no idea we had so many movables. Books alone could bring me down.

Boxes and boxes of nick and nack.  Suddenly I’m not sure we need any of this stuff. Maybe just my dictionary and a . . . blender. The movables in my youngest’s room alone could fill a chintzy gift shop in some quaint little beach town. Snow globes, necklaces, figurines, oh my.

We took all of the doors off and Jack just about lost his calm Zen doggie mind.

Project Paint the House, began a while back with my trip to Home Depot.  I was going to paint the house, one room at a time.  I picked out the paint, bought the rollers and pans.  Drop cloths and tape, lots of tape, because I like straight lines.  I came home emboldened.  Many women paint their homes.  This is a DIY kind of world, and I’m hip like that.

Besides, I remember when Michael and I bought our first little house, we painted almost the whole damn thing the night we moved in over a pizza and some wine. I’m still young and sassy like that, so even though Michael looked at me with his “Oh Tracy,” look that really drives me nuts, he entertained and I was ready to paint.

Have any of you ever painted a ceiling?  Hats off to Michelangelo because I’m pretty sure I had paint in my hair for days and that was just one ceiling.  As with all things, I began with gusto.  Jeans rolled up, bare feet, Jason Mraz spilling through the speakers.

I barely finished one room.  Closet doors are a bitch too.  I rinsed off the rollers, certain I would pick up after a bit of a rest. Eventually the paint cans were moved to the garage. That was a few months ago.

Turns out I’m not hip like that.  Thank God for Shaggy.

My thoughts from the laundry room.  I’m Napping.

10 thoughts on “Painted On Jeans

  1. I just painted my sons room complete with blue ceiling and white fluffy clouds it’s so peaceful I’m fighting the urge to do it in my room and the bathroom, kitchen, lounge…….

  2. I refused to let Danny paint even one room in our house because I liked the light color of paint that we chose when the house was built, it makes the house look open and airy (cliche, I know). That being said, I decided one day that I just wanted to paint one room, the laundry room (no pun intended). I bought paint and additional shelving and then Danny threw water on my joy. He had to tell me how the existing shelves would have to be removed dada dada dada… I gave in very easily. However, he had to figure out how to cover up the patches where I had attempted touch up and used the wrong color. He did, it was the ceiling paint. Go figure. Well, its just as well, we have sold the house and we move in December. The new owners will have a blank slate.😞

  3. You’re bringing back memories! Of painting this house when we moved in. And I was never in the leading role:). Thank God. I don’t have a Shaggy but I know my limitations!

  4. Oooh! I love the starting to do new stuff! Its the ending of them that puts me off…and the middle of them. I can understand those paint cans in the garage because heaven knows how many of my “projects” are lying hidden in my cupboards awaiting their Shaggy.
    Happy napping in the meantime 😀

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