peenee Paint

In February, right after R Man died, I tackled painting the room upstairs we use as an office. I realize now it was grief triggered madness since I am, bar none, the worse painter in the world and should never be allowed near a brush that is not related to what little hair I have left. I understand this, and yet, this afternoon found me once again slinging latex and taking names. And not even a different room, but the same one I painted seven months ago.

Why? Well, yes, madness is repeating the same actions and expecting a different outcome, but besides that, it was the curtains. Earlier this year, I had some ravishing scarlet silk curtains made for our dining room. They're ravishing. People come over, see them and announce "I am ravished." Ravishing. But then I found an equally beautiful, dark magenta rug. Tragically, just like the tired old joke says, the rug and curtains did not match. Often I would come home to a strained, sullen silence in the dining room that let me know they had been squabbling again. I got new curtains last week, not as ravishing, but quite charming and capable of living with the rug.

I offered the scarlet curtains to Secret Agent Fred and as I was loading them into the car to take them over there, I was trying hard not to feel deprived. Fred is a good friend and deserved them, they'd be going to a good home and blahblahblah, but they're so pretty, it was hard to let go. Remember, ravishing? So when they turned out not to fit his windows., well, let's just say I was not conflicted about bringing them back.

What could I do? Giving them away was obviously going to bring on some kind of designer homo breakdown, but the only room that didn't already have curtains was the office. The lavender office. Lavender and scarlet. So very much not feeling the love there. Okay. Okay. Goodbye lavender, hello charcoal. Goodbye also to my vow to never, ever paint again.

Still, I've finished the first coat without killing myself , I should grind out the second one tomorrow morning in time for my chiropractor appointment in the afternoon (which I'll need,) and by this time on Thursday, I'll be al through. And I will never, ever, ever paint again. As god is my witness.