And then, nothing. Not sure what happened, but months went by, then a year, and then - well, the walls were still white, scuffed and ugly. Eight years in a house and STILL have not painted the main level.
I was suddenly seized by the painting bug yesterday. We dropped our kids off at summer camp last weekend for three weeks. Three WHOLE full-of-potential weeks, where anything could happen! We could go out to dinner every night! Go to happy hour after work! Stay up late, sleep in, eat whenever we want!
Or we could also spend hours painting. By we, I mean me. Not that John doesn't want to help me, but the whole painting thing has kind of been MY thing. I sort of want to do it myself, for some bizarre reason.
So yesterday I found myself at the paint store, buying paint for the ceiling, which is where I determined would be the best place to start. I found a can of paint in the basement marked "ceiling" so I figured this must be the right color. I took down all the things that were hanging on the walls, covered everything in plastic sheeting, turned my iPod on full blast on the Bose and got to work.
I quickly realized a few things.
One, the paint can marked "ceiling" was most definitely NOT for this particular ceiling. For a moment I considered aborting the project but then decided to carry on. There was no way I was going to stop now! Anyway, paint always looks darker when you first apply it, right?
Two, painting ceilings is kind of awkward. I was using a step ladder and found myself getting up and down, up and down, over and over just to roll out a small square area. It was exhausting. Then I realized that as I was looking up at the roller, it in turn was very rudely spraying me in the face with a fine mist of paint. This required that I revamp my painting outfit to include a bandana to cover my hair and my dad's old protective work goggles.
Three, ceilings should be painted with a long handled roller. After about thirty minutes I realized this would take me two weeks to complete at the rate I was going. Facebook to the rescue. Moments after I posted a desperate plea for a long handled roller, a neighbor posted that she had set one outside her door for me. I quickly drove my sweaty, paint flecked self over to her house to retrieve what would be my saving grace for the day.
Four, duct tape always works miracles. I found myself in the awkward position of trying to paint a corner of the ceiling that was unfortunately located above the stairs in a spot I could not reach. Channeling my do-it-yourself Dad, I fashioned a long-handled paint brush by duct taping my regular brush to a yard stick.
I know I look a bit deranged in this photo, but in my defense this was about three hours into the process and I was feeling a bit . . . you know . . . deranged.
Five, painting always makes me cry. Not because of the fumes, or the frustration, or the oh-my-God-what-have-I-gotten-myself-into feelings that occasionally grip me in the midst of the project. I tend to have little crying fits when I spend too much time by myself and have too much time to think. All-day paint jobs definitely fit the bill. What set me off was an email I received from our piano teacher, whose departure for a new life I chronicled in my last blog post. It was a happy email, full of details of their new life in another state, the warm welcome they received from neighbors - but I of course took it one step further and began thinking about the circle of life and how nothing stays the same and how my kids are growing and forming their own lives and leaving me behind and oh, wow, now they're gone for another two and half weeks and I miss them and what am I doing here, painting this monstrous ceiling all by myself, inhaling fumes and crying while listening to Willie Nelson and Merle Haggard sing Pancho and Lefty which always makes me think of my Dad blasting that same song on Thanksgiving morning while I lay upstairs in bed with a four week old Ella thinking about how tiny and wonderful and sweet my baby is and how happy I was that morning that my mom didn't tell my dad to turn the music down because it gave me a calm, peaceful, wonderful feeling that I still remember to this day which is why I'm crying.
Whew. That's kind of how it went.
Anyway, I finished about 75% of the ceiling and I plan to finish it today. Onward and upward.
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