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.
acceptance crazy life reality DIY home humor life painting thoughts winging it