I liked painting

My intelligence is above-average.  I'm not being conceited, it's a tested fact that my IQ is about 132.  As I think I've made clear in other posts, I like to occasionally test my intelligence by doing things that are sort of dumb.  In June I decided I'd had enough of the extremely hideous paint in our master bedroom and bathroom.  At some point one of the previous owners went in with a sprayer and painted the walls, ceiling, and trim in an off-white that closely resembled nicotine stains.  Then the walls were painted a sort of lavender that was disgusting.  Seriously, I think I need trauma counseling after looking at it day in and day out for almost a year. The trim and ceilings were left nicotine white.  Additionally, we have fourteen foot vaulted ceilings, and instead of doing the tedious work of painting a neat line they just used a style I like to call "indifferent" so paint was all over the ceiling.  My idealistic hope was that my eyes were playing tricks on me and that the ceiling only looked beige.  I hoped I would be able to use ceiling white just in the edges.

If you have average reading comprehension skills and you've been following my blog with even minimal dedication you might remember that I had a baby in April.  One thing I haven't mentioned is that I had a baby who felt that sleep was optional, but that constantly being held was critical.  So here's what I had: a baby with only minimal interest in sleep and a high need to be held; a two-year-old; and ugly bedroom paint.  Also I didn't want to paint the bathroom and bedroom the same color.  I did what any person would do: rather than wait for a more opportune time I opted for instant gratification.  I bought a gallon of paint and hastily painted the bathroom.  I looked great, especially since most of it wasn't done.  It says something for the previous color that my lazy handiworked looked better.  Eventually I got sick of the mild anxiety that accompanied any trip to the bathroom and committed to finishing.  I bought more paint, many, many paintbrushes, awesome blue tape and caulk.

I think I should let you in on a secret: it's much more fun to start a project then to continue working on it week in and week out.  I got the bathroom done pretty quickly.  The color was fairly dark and easily covered what I will now refer to as "vomit lavendar."  I started encountering an issue when it came to doing the very top.  Fourteen foot walls + eight foot ladder + five foot person = too short.  Rather than buying a new ladder I moved on to the bedroom.  When I picked out our paint I had two choices: buy a primer and paint or spring for the more expensive, awesome Behr Paint + Primer.  Even though I'm usually known for eschewing products that will make my life easier, in this case I decided to use the more expensive Behr, thinking I would save time having to do only two coats, rather than two coats of primer and two coats of paint (that equals four coats; I know you don't come to my blog to do math).

I enthusiastically did the first coat on one wall.  My initial reaction was disappointment.  Vomit lavender was still extremely obviously.  I cheered myself with the reminder I still needed a whole other coat.  I let the one wall dry and applied another coat of paint.  The results were still pretty much terrible.  OK, this was not good.  In rash optimism I decided that the lavender in the rest of the room was bouncing off the new color and once the other walls were done it would look fine.  In an uncharacteristic burst of energy I focused on painting the whole bedroom twice (well...the parts I could reach without a tall ladder and without moving furniture).  Can I even begin to describe the frustration I felt as I realized that I was going to need to do another coat of paint?  This project was rapidly starting to suck.  Now, this is where the details start to get fuzzy thanks to my lingering PTSD.  At some point I went to use ceiling paint in the edges and learned that the ceilings were not, in fact, white.  So I had to go back to Home Depot and buy supplies for ceiling painting and commit to buying a really, really tall ladder.  By now the employees in the painting department and I were pretty much best friends.

If you can believe it, painting our ceilings was less fun then I'd been led to believe by numerous sources, mainly no one.  Painting them actually only took one night, although when the sun is really bright I can see spots that could use a second coat, which I've solved by only spending time in my bedroom during nighttime hours.  With the ceilings done and a tall ladder purchased I no longer had any excuse to not paint the top of the walls.  We bought a Little Giant ladder which converts from A-Frame to extension to some other stuff I haven't learned because I hope to never use it in that capacity.  First I did everything I could with the ladder in A-Frame.  For some reason I was not excited to put the ladder into extension mode and be up twelve feet.  Unfortunately the painting at the tippy top was not getting done by magic, no matter how much I prayed to the tooth fairy and Santa.  Eventually I had to suck it up.  To start with I had to go up on the ladder and tape and caulk. (Caulking ensures a straight line when your walls are heavily textured as ours are.  Unless it just pulls up the paint, which might have happened to me and might have resulted in me screaming "FuckfuckfuckFUUUUCK" and throwing a paintbrush off the ladder.)  Then I had to get up and paint.  FOUR TIMES.  Yes, the mutant vomit lavender paint required four coats of paint and I swear that I can still see spots that could use a fifth coat.  Someday I will do that fifth coat while also consuming a fifth of Jameson.  

The final indignity came when I tried to take down the tape and, as I mentioned earlier, the caulk pulled off a huge amount of paint. I had to climb up twelve feet and use a knife to cut the caulk through the tape so the paint didn't all come off with it.  Did I mention that I also had to do this in the evening while Kent was working?  With two small children asleep?  Raise your hands if you agree that was pretty much my best idea ever.  I couldn't wait though because when I'm working on a project I have to power through.  Taking a day off turns into a week, which turns into a month which turns into Kent asking in anguish six months later, "Are you ever going to get this ladder out of room?" and me responding bitchily, "I can't because I'm still not done with the goddamn painting."  Hence why I couldn't wait until another adult was in the house for me to undertake my knife-wielding tape removal.

Once the painting was done I could only think dark, vengeful thoughts towards Behr.  I'm not one to file complaints.  Usually I just harbor passive-aggressive hatred for a company until the end of time.  In this case though, my mom convinced me to email Behr about my disappointment.  One bored afternoon I finally did and they offered me a full refund on all four gallons of paint I purchased. So even though I wasn't happy about my results I no longer hate Behr.  Also it took six weeks to do all the painting and now I need new carpet because I was too lazy to use a drop cloth.  Also there is no way to paint around a bathtub, vanity and shower stall that does not feel mildly dangerous.  And now I hate painting.