I just looked up today and realized it is October. Mr. Wonderful has been very busy at work. As everyone on the planet knows, there is lots o political news. Can I just say HA HA to the Republicans? Too bad Democrats have cranium rectum disease or the advantage would be theirs.
Working at CNN for a decade plus makes me cynical.
In my ongoing effort to avoid the Bleachers Club, I have thrown myself into a new project. I have been painting like a possessed person.
It all started when my Mother-in-Law was living here earlier this year. She was horribly ill, and I had to administer IV antibiotics daily. We’d sit in the family room, in front of the fire, and crank up Oprah or Jane Austin movies and she’d take her meds.
It gave her a lot of time to think about how much better the room would be with “a little color on the walls.” I humored her, made her walk around Home Depo looking at paint samples (physical therapy) and agreed to paint the family room “someday.”
Someday came with a vengeance. We had conversations like this:
MIL – “I’ve had ten years of education in art. I can pick colors.”
Me – “I have to live here.”
We settled on the colors I wanted as I am meaner than her. I said, “you owe me for not letting you die.”
“That argument only works this time,” MIL told me.
We achieved détente; butterscotch color for high traffic walls (the ones that my son cannot go past without slapping) cream color on the window walls, white for the windows and doors. It looks great
I had forgotten how much prep goes into painting. All the furniture moving, all the cleaning, all the taping, all the everything. It was a relief when the second coat went on the walls. Then I lost my mind.
I had a true hyper-productive meltdown and painted the stairs and the bedroom landing. That earned me 6 more doors to paint, plus trim. By then Mr. Wonderful was sick of the disruption of painting and more specifically, me. We snarled at each other and I felt pissed because he didn’t help.
I got even by taking the door off his favorite bathroom and painting that first.
The upshot of all this is that my MIL painted right along with me, something we could never have imagined last March. We had fun together. She finally listened to me and allowed me to take her to a financial planner. It’s never too late to learn how to invest.
Now we are back at Home Depo, picking out colors for the living room, dining room and front door landing. Ms. Interior Decorator trusts my judgment more and I’ll comprise, since I’ve already used the “owe me.”
Ironically, all this painting has helped me lose weight. Proof that painting is harder than running bleachers!