That would be painting.

Any of it; all of it. It doesn’t matter. To think! That I actually called myself a DIY’er when it comes to painting. Let me retract that statement and tell painting to go F off.

F OFF, PAINTING.

I don’t get it. Do I need to start seeking professional help stat? Painting is a normal enoughish thing, right? This is something that the majority of Americans have done, do do and are doing. Correct?

So I’m not kinda, I am,  afraid for myself. I think maybe me not being able to handle paint prep, priming and then the paint itself of a 24×14 bedroom should not be the end of my world. I also don’t think it should take 11 hours for all of this to happen.

Scarier, is that I have The BF and Brother helping.  Although, I completely have to stay on their asses and sound psycho and no fun and all naggy with my:

BOYS! THERE IS NO BREAK ALLOWED FOR THE FIRST HOUR! DO YOU SEE ME TAKING A BREAK?! THAT’S WHAT I F-ING THOUGHT!

I never believe in breaks until reaching a true breaking point. “True breaking points” for me are things like, omg I am going to pee my pants or die of thirst and/or hunger.

Straight up dire straights. Exhaustion is not valid. Unless it happens to be me. Kidding. Kinda.

Painting seems to bring out my lesser than qualities. Though I can hear Higher Self saying, there is no lesser than. But, you, My People, know what I mean, right?

Just not one of my strong suits.

First I just want to get it all over and done with already so I start going quick. I want to cut corners, I want to roll as fast as I can. I use that worthless edger even when I know it’s not going to look good. And what the F! Is it really necessary to prime like you’re painting?

That’s what I thought! So I just threw that damn primer up on the walls. The BF and Brother both looked shocked, decided it was best to say nothing to me and picked up rollers and went over every.single.part. I had done.

Never does pay to rush shit, does it?

Also. How does painting, regardless of what room it’s happening in, means looking like home break ins/natural disasters in all living areas?

The whole house has gone to hell. I fear walking downstairs. The last time I went into the kitchen I discovered a huge Coscto block of cheddar cheese that had been sitting in the middle of the island for 7 hours. HOW none of us even saw it was beyond me for .5 seconds till I realized that of course!

WHO in their right mind can see even a Costco sized cheese block when all of your glasses, plates and utensils are sprawled out on all the counters. Still don’t get how the hell that even happens.

While we were priming, TC decided to drop by and that he wanted a cold drink, a snack and announced he was going to watch The King’s Speech.

After he left I found the following note, by the way, I suggest you clean your home. It looks terrible.

Thanks, Dad. Thank you so much for that.

But hey, like all things, this is merely a temporary state of dirty chaos. Tomorrow night all will be in order. And I’ll have a lovely new bedroom color, make that a two toned bedroom.

Because, oh yeah, I was too lazy to paint the ceiling. When in actuality I told Brother and The BF I couldn’t decide what color I wanted : white or the green/yellow/hint of orange color we went with.

See that, People? I’m so ass kicked from painting that I can’t even recall what color I chose. It’s nothing I ever would have imagined myself choosing, tomorrow morning will be the moment of truth.

It’s either going to be rocking or not rocking. But either way, it’s staying. Unless I have nothing to do with GD painting.

I can and will put a positive spin on anything.