Painted. Sort Of.

When I opened the can of light blue ... ooops sorry ... Mystical Blue paint, it looked white and I thought I had gone too light. But it's not.

The lighting in my bathroom is crap, and I have transitional eyesight now, which makes bad lighting worse. That translates into I can't see anything within three feet when I'm wearing my contacts for distance because I'm old and decrepit now. You think I'm joking. Just ask my nine year old. He'll tell you I'm old. Especially if I choose to confess to an age other than my own. Lately I prefer being 32.

Uhm... where was I?

Yes. The bathroom is blue. The molding is still dirty white. But that's tomorrow. My back hurts.

I also did some cleaning today. And laundry. And searching for artwork through unpacked moving boxes in the basement.

Have I mentioned we've lived here for four years? And I'm only now getting around to painting the bathroom. And rummaging through boxes.

I'm on a mission to reclaim my basement and turn the rabbit warren into usable space. (I will not show a picture of my basement to you. You can thank me now.) I don't know if it can be done because the biggest obsticle is my husband. Once he found his computer stuff (four years ago) he stopped emptying boxes. I'm at the point where a dumpster is sounding pretty good.

Any advice on getting a spouse to unpack and get rid of crap he no longer needs or knows he has would be appreciated.

*knock-knock-knock*

Anybody there? Is this thing on?

Not To Paint

 

 The hardware store finally got the base for the paint I wanted for the bathroom and I picked it up yesterday afternoon. Along with some screws. Can't leave the hardware store without some sort of hardware.

But by the time I got home it was too late to start. So this morning I was all "gung ho" about starting as soon as I put the offspring on the bus. But first I had to eat, and then I had to check email, and then I had to set up. I prepped the space with newspaper over stuff I didn't want to splatter with "mystic blue" paint. And stuff kept falling, and I kept tripping and slipping and swearing and cursing (not the same), and because I spend a lot of time alone I heard a small voice in my head saying "this is a bad idea."

Always listen to the voice in your head.

Unless it tells you to do something illegal.

The voice in my head seemed to be on to something, so I listened. I stopped what I was doing, got some clean clothes, and headed to the shower.

Nothing like a hot shower to clear your mind.

So now, instead of frantically painting, trying to finish before I have to go to school to hear my son's third grade class's recorder recital, I am showered, caffeinated, have time for errands and several run-on sentences, and maybe even time for a quick cocktail before the recital. You may think that's unkind, but honestly, I've never heard my son practice. I fear for my hearing. And this performance is expected to run-on for 30 minutes.

It'll be done just in time for lunch.

I haven't cracked open that bottle of Bitch Bubbly. Maybe THAT's what's for lunch.

Except that I was planning on doing the painting after the recital. My planning may be flawed.

The Danger of Power Tools

Put a cordless drill in my hands and what happens? Holes in the wall. THAT's what happens. Several holes in the wall.

Despite the destructive pleasure it provides, I'm not sure I should be trusted with a cordless drill or anything else that cuts, slices or sands. Seriously. It's bad enough with a painbrush. And now I'm sorely tempted, as I wait for some spackle to dry, to wander aimlessly around the house and leave a trail of holes in the walls. Just because I can. And because the battery for the drill is charged.

It's been a frustrating couple of days. So many projects; so little time. And the gods of home improvement are toying with me. Just when I think I've measured and leveled and have it all perfect, the drill bit slides a little south and I'm faced with a hole just a hair too far from the other. The plastic anchors don't open, and on the other side... what's this? A stud???? WTF?

I might have known a stud was there if I could find the stud finder. I wonder if there is a finder for the stud finder. Be that as it may, I can't find the stud finder, because the last person who used it (not me) put it away in some illogical place. It won't be seen again until another one is purchased and it turns up when I'm looking for something else.

I finally committed to a paint color for the upstairs bathroom, but the hardware store was out of the base needed to mix the color for the texture I want. My plan was to pick it up yesterday and start painting as soon as the boy was on the bus to school this morning. Had that been the case, the room would be painted by now.

Alas! What games these gods do play.

Or maybe it's my toil that brings trouble. I need a new cauldron.

I now need to return to the hardware store, get my paint (gods willing) and get some longer screws for the holes that lead to studs. The screws I had were for the plastic anchors.

I've considered throwing in the towel and spending the rest of the day watching HGTV and finishing off a bottle of sparkling wine. It's
called Bitch Bubbly.

That bottle has my name on it.

Lu gave it to me. She's a good friend.