Chores
Last Wednesday, the spouse awakened me and said: "We're painting the house today." As it was 5:30 am and I was in a pre-caffeinated state, I didn't reply. He and the dog (who had been sleeping on top of my legs, thus depriving them of any feeling whatsoever) went downstairs. Laying in bed, listening to the espresso machine go through its morning throat-clearing exercise, I pondered this: "we" are going to paint the house? Who the hell is "we" and why didn't anyone ask ME? The house is small but is 2-story and has vaulted ceilings - this means steep roofs and lots of peaks. Of the two of us, I am the one not bothered by heights - but I am not going up on the damned roof to paint. Grrrr.
The obvious argument was had: "Why don't we hire professionals to do it?" "Do you have any idea how much that costs?" "No, and, frankly, I don't care." While I had reason and common sense on my side, somehow I lost this argument. So we've been painting. I'd like to be able to tell you that my house is a lovely shade of sage with forest green trim, like it used to be, but it isn't. Somehow, in the four or five years since we painted it last, the paint codes have changed and now we have a washed-out minty green with olive drab trim. Ick. The minty green I can live with - the olive drab I couldn't, hence I had to repaint the trim.
I HATE painting. Why? Because it's a stupid, menial task and I suck at it. It's completely my own fault that I suck yet I don't seem to be able to do anything to address it. I never get the right amount of paint on the brush and hence I try to "fix" the brush strokes, making everything far worse than it was to start with. I don't seem to be able to paint a straight line, and I seem to have a talent for masking things off and yet getting paint in the masked-off areas. It defies all reason and logic, yet there it is.
We're almost done. I'm selling this house before we EVER do this again.
The obvious argument was had: "Why don't we hire professionals to do it?" "Do you have any idea how much that costs?" "No, and, frankly, I don't care." While I had reason and common sense on my side, somehow I lost this argument. So we've been painting. I'd like to be able to tell you that my house is a lovely shade of sage with forest green trim, like it used to be, but it isn't. Somehow, in the four or five years since we painted it last, the paint codes have changed and now we have a washed-out minty green with olive drab trim. Ick. The minty green I can live with - the olive drab I couldn't, hence I had to repaint the trim.
I HATE painting. Why? Because it's a stupid, menial task and I suck at it. It's completely my own fault that I suck yet I don't seem to be able to do anything to address it. I never get the right amount of paint on the brush and hence I try to "fix" the brush strokes, making everything far worse than it was to start with. I don't seem to be able to paint a straight line, and I seem to have a talent for masking things off and yet getting paint in the masked-off areas. It defies all reason and logic, yet there it is.
We're almost done. I'm selling this house before we EVER do this again.