I Should've Taken a Photo

Every so often, I feel compelled to subject myself to we're-not-laughing-at-you-we're-laughing-with-you comments as they relate to my general domestic ineptitude. (Remember the brownies? How about the Christmas centerpiece?) Today is one of those days.

See, we're in the middle of a home remodel project that began with the statement, "Hey, honey? Now that I'm self-employed, I need a space," and has morphed to include the nightmarish self-install of 1200 square feet of laminate flooring and many gallons of one-coat-coverage-is-a-cruel-myth paint. (Among other things, of course. If you've ever engaged in a home improvement project, I suspect you, too, have walked in to The Big Orange Box with a one-item shopping list--gallon of paint for kitchen--only to leave with new outlet covers, a bathroom vanity, and a six-months-same-as-cash disclosure statement.)

My husband won't allow me to use the miter saw. Normally, he's bright enough--and interested enough in self-preservation--to support my feminist leanings. However, in the case of the toothed blade that spins at roughly 4000 rpm, he's rightly pointed out three things: 

• My work requires a lot of typing. 
• It's difficult to type sans thumbs. 
• I regularly injure myself walking through doors. 

I almost argued the difference between large motor skills and fine motor coordination, but I understood his point: I'm clumsy and I'd likely lose a digit or two running the saw. Okay, fine.

Since I'm not permitted to use the saw, my purpose in The Project is limited to filling nail holes and painting. Oh, and pointing out additional and necessary elements of The Project that hadn't previously occurred to us, but that's a whole other (or, for my Nebraska friends, "whole nother") post. Today I will focus on the painting.

When I was in elementary school, I regularly received "Unsatisfactory" marks in art. More often than not, I earned such marks not because I'm a terrible artist (although that's also true), but because I tended to run out of time to complete assignments. If we were expected to draw a face, I would begin the work, discover my oval was lopsided, and throw it away. I'd begin again, notice the left eye was larger than the right, make the right eye larger to balance it out, discover that the right eye was now larger than the left, end up with a face full of erased eyes, and throw it away. I'd begin again, get all the way to coloring in the lips, go slightly outside the lines on the bottom lip, try to compensate with a little extra color on the top lip, and . . . well, you get the picture, yes?

Now, pick up that whole experience and overlay it on the guest bathroom:

• Paint the top edge of the wall. Get green paint on the white ceiling. Attempt to touch-up ceiling. Get white paint on the green wall.
• Pull blue tape from around the white doorframe and take a nice chunk of fresh green paint off the wall in the process. Touch up the green wall. Get green paint on the white trim. Rinse. Repeat.
• Check on ceiling touch-ups and discover it's now two colors: "ceiling white" and, apparently, "ecru."
• Swear.
• Apply ceiling white. On the last pass with the roller, trip (somehow, in a bathroom that's approximately 2'x4').
• Prevent a fall by leaning the roller (filled with white paint) on the green wall.
• Climb up on the sink to remove the white paint from the green wall. Stand up on the vanity to reach the very last bit of white paint aaaaaand feel head graze the ceiling. Yes, the wet ceiling.
• Think, "I should've taken a photo of this."

Now, if you'll excuse me . . . I have trim to paint.