prompt by Mo of Manic Monday - check it out!
So yesterday, we (meaning I) started painting the downstairs. Gus had asked if he could help, which I was happy to oblige. So he got to put some of the primer on a small section of the wall. He wasn't all that pleased when he got some wet paint from the roller on his hands. The project went pretty well. Here's three colors: the old color on the left, white primer in the middle, and the new color on the right.
It took pretty much all day to do the dining area, even with MM's help (Gus gave up after the primer). So after all that work, I'm a little...territorial about the walls, especially since the rest of the downstairs isn't finished yet. I certainly don't want nicks in the walls one day later. So maybe I should have put up some 'wet paint' tape across the area or something. It probably wasn't a wise decision to let Gus over there, especially during a homework semi-meltdown. And possibly, the metal chairs with the sharp corners will have to go. Yup; nice little nick in the wall already.
The trim, by the way is chocolate brown, not black. It looks warmer in person. It even looks sort of nice over there. The irony here is that I'm pushing myself to get the place painted and looking nice before his birthday because I thought it would be nice to invite a couple of his school friends over for a mini-party. I know he didn't mean any harm and probably didn't even notice the chair scraping the wall. I know he probably has no concept of what it is taking for me to get this painting done, or why it has to be done, or even that there's any connection between the painting and his 'party'. And yet, intellectually knowing all this, something as small as an almost imperceptible nick in a new paint job really got under my skin. Big things I can cope with. Why are the little things such destroyers of my sanity?