Paint. There must be some reason that word is only a letter away from 'pain'. This is what I've mused at times during the long hours of flinging paint about rooms. Then the second wind: "I can do this forever! I love painting!" Ah... there's nothing like discovering the joy of intimate communion with a paint roller. Everyone should have a chance to experience this joy at one time or another. If you had come along the other day while I was painting the white picket fence... I might have pulled a "Tom Sawyer" on you.
Then there is the frustration. Today, I was in the bathroom placing a cream color over a slightly darker cream, while in the bedroom right through the door my mum and Katie were having fun with purpley color. I slaved away, rolling, brushing, standing on high ladder, and low ladder. Then one of them walked into the room and asked, "Which walls have you painted so far?" Arggggggggggggggh! The lighting in the room did a good job of masking my masterpiece of applied talent. In fact, the color I was using actually made the whole place look worse, worse I say, than its original state because it needed two coats. Imagine patchy half-applied paint. Their efforts transformed their room, while mine made the bathroom look diseased. *SIGH*
Something else. At the end of a long day of lovingly laying latex layers on lousy walls I sometimes become a bit... shall we say, loud about current observations on my situation. Have you ever knelt on a marble vanity? My poor skin, mashed, ground between bone and immovable marble. I yelled about it. Katie came with concern to see if I was ok. I was... in her eyes, anyway. Then, I bumped my wrist against the steaming hot bulb of the vanity lights. I yelled again. Next... I dripped more paint! Ooops. From the great height of about fifteen feet (very high ceiling). I climber allll the waaaay doooown the tallll ladder to wipe the lousy dot from the floor. Then alll the way back up the seemingly endless rungs (heights make me weak-kneed). More yelling about the unfairness of life in general. Suddenly, from the other room I heard.... laughing. Katie was laughing. At ME! *angry eyes*
I say. Talk about adding insult to injury. Her beeeeautiful room. My diseased one. My pain. Her comedy show. Grrr.
Poor pitiful me.
Day-old Delaware Chickens
9 years ago
4 comments:
Nice alliteration in the third paragraph there.
You still painting in your church clothes? :)
Hahahaha... um, no. Just my Christian Dior gown I keep tucked away for some special occasion.
:-Þ
I hate to admit it, but I just realized what the title meant. Very clever.
Bravo. I wonder if anyone else will take the time to think twice over it.
Post a Comment