On Zane's face is a touch of blue that matches my bathroom. I think.
For the past two weeks, I have been a painting fool. My tiny little bathroom got a "makeover".
I wouldn't say that I made it look any prettier, because my bathroom is smaller than most coat closets. But I had purchased great expensive paint at the bargain price of $5.00 a can. Al because someone didn't quite like the shade after seeing the finished product.
I can't hardly pass up the "OOPS!" paint section at Lowes, Home Depot or Westlake. Some of their colors are pretty ugly, but once in a great while they will have a nice shade of blue or yellow. No Pink or Brown for me!
Our little fixer-upper was in need of something bright and shiny. We couldn't afford new floors, or a bigger bathroom, so the next best thing according to the experts to make your home appealing to the public, is a nice fresh coat of paint.
Painting used to be therapeutic for me back in the day when my joints didn't creak and my neck never got stiff from painting the ceilings or the highest spots on the walls. I used to be a little more patient too.
Have you every tried to paint a room that is exactly two full steps from the doorway to the sink and about as much room to swing a small cat?
Long story short, I had various globs of paint on my hands and arms, a nice colorful streak in my hair and a minor paint high from the close proximity of the chemicals in the primer portion of the paint.
This past weekend it was the kitchen's turn to be transformed from an eye-popping yellow to a more mellow softer shade. Like every other project that I visualize, the turnout is never quite the vision I had in the beginning. In my eagerness to get started, I forgot that I was holding the paint tray close to my beating heart.
Imagine my surprise, when something thick and cool began running down my shirt and covering my toes. I had tilted the paint tray down when it should have been level or at best, worth a second trip in carrying the paint supplies to the target of my endeavors.
After painting half of the kitchen and the closet, I caught a glimpse of myself in the bathroom mirror. A nice soft yellow blob of paint was decorating my hair like a flower. I had "paint" freckles on my face and large samples of yellow adjoining the blue and white shades from the previous week.
Now you might ask, "Do you ever wash?" Of course I do! However, I don't like to wear gloves or protective clothing when I am "in the zone".
As I was relaying these adventures to my mother on Sunday, she remarked, that she probably wouldn't want to paint in the same room as me. As dangerous as I am, I wouldn't expect anyone too.
Almost everyone else that I know has an excellent paint ethic. They clear the room out and carefully place drop cloths to prevent messes. Their rollers spread the paint with even swipe and they NEVER get paint in their hair or clothing.
My sister-in-law, Cindy is one of those individuals who can paint an entire room without spilling a drop. She takes her time and colors within the lines as she was taught in grade school. Unfortunately, Cindy does not live near me, so I couldn't recruit her for the "Painting Event of the Year."
A nice fresh coat of paint whether it sticks to you or the wall will change your entire outlook on life.
I feel more confident about letting people into my home. It does feel cleaner and brighter. I might even feel brave enough to share some pictures when it is all done.
Please have a great week everyone!