A Tiny Painting Update

After painting a few days and touching up the closet and basement walls many times over, I was feeling a bit stressed.  Stressed enough to beg and plead my loving husband to help me with the entryway, a job far more intricate than the closet and basement wall.  In fact, I was so desperate that I offered to sell my soul if he’d just do the entryway.  We are expecting fun houseguests this weekend, and decluttering the house was also high on my priorities, and for the most part, I was running out of time, and fast.

Even though he hates painting, my husband is good at it.  He closesly examined the closet and basement wall that I had so carefully worked on and officially banned me from ever using a paintbrush with paint ever again.  Ever.  He got rid of my drop cloths that were soaked in dribbles and pools of paint.  He got rid of all my taping which was ripping the paint back off the wall.  He smoothed out the drizzles and drips, and redid the closet and basement wall.

“Have you ever actually painted a wall before?”  he asked me.

“Uhm, no.”

“Your mother never had you help with all of her painting projects?”

“Inside?”

“Well, yeah.”  He looked at me expectingly.

“There is no way my mother would let me get anywhere near wet paint inside the house.”

“It’s all making so much more sense now.”

Dr. Peds worked Tuesday and Wednesday, and painted the entry way and a wall next to the basement stairs and fixed all of my other projects that I had actually started.  He didn’t use drop cloths.  He didn’t use tape.  He did use his tools to remove lots of stuff that might inhibit his progress.  There were no drops or spills or drizzles.  Amazing.  I love my husband.

And the painting is pretty much done.  Except for the office.  Which is no longer my job.  Because I’m not allowed to get near the paintbrush, especially in a carpeted room.