What in the world possessed me? I tended to a sick child most of the day, but then after dinner, attacked the kitchen again. Or, I should say, it attacked me. I’m a project planner by nature, so the order of things to be done was not an issue. It was the execution. I hate painting. No, I really hate painting. I hate the way I never get the brush right and paint globules fill the air, flying hither and yon landing in places they were definitely not meant to go, like my hair, my new dining room chairs, the apples in the fruit bowl, and the tiny little holes of the phone receiver that was sitting on the counter.
I hate the way that no matter how fabulous it looks when you’re finished, the next morning, in different light, you can see that entire patches were missed. I hate the way no matter how well taped off something is, paint seeps under the tape and onto the cupboards, or again, my hair (that will teach me for trying to practice safe painting).
Then, just when I’ve reached my modest goal for the evening, cleaned everything up, and scraped the paint off the remaining 300 places I’d splattered, I decided to test the paint I bought for the rest of the room. As soon as I took a swipe, I knew something had gone horribly wrong. The color was not the soothing mid-tone mauvish I had thought, but a hideous Pepto-Bismol pink. I hate pink. My previously perfect color selecting eyes had betrayed me. I tried to blame the paint guy…but, sadly, it was my choice.
So now, I have to go back once more to the paint store and reconsider my entire life’s choices. And how the hell do I get this paint out of my hair? I should have just painted the entire sucker black.
It’s a small world, but I wouldn’t want to have to paint it.
~ Steven Wright
Published on: May 24, 2006
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