Yesterday was the conclusion of Operation: Paint the House.
And by “House”, I mean the entryway, hallways, living room, and around the window in the dining room. (Oh! and the laundry room door. Don’t forget that.)
Everyday, during naptime, late at night, early in the morning, just painting. Or getting ready to paint. Which, frankly, takes as long as painting does.
We’re getting crown molding put up and when I realized that if I could paint everything in a week, I wouldn’t have to tape at the top. So, I planned the operation. And I thought, it’ll be tough, but it’s totally doable.
Until I started. And then I thought, this is crazy.
It’s like having a baby. Before you get pregnant, you think it’ll be hard but survivable. In the middle, you’re pretty sure you’re going to die. Then you’re holding that sweet bundle of gurgling baby fat* and you’re pretty sure you’d do it again in an instant (or a year or two). By the time the kid’s walking, you’re convinced you made the whole nauseous thing up.
And no, this is not some back-handed baby announcement, although you know I’m not above that kind of thing. It’s just that I seem to compare everything to childbirth.
So here’s your assignment:
If you could paint your living room any color (husband, toddlers, and rental notwithstanding), any color at all, what color would you paint it?
And, more importantly, what do you think we just painted our living room? (that’s the hallway, by the way.)
I’ll give you a hint: It’s not beige or white. Or black. (I’m so helpful!)