It all started with a spot, a spot that has consumed every waking hour of mine, or actually every sleeping hour of my My Little Man's, for this entire week. And when I say consumed, I mean Consumed.
It began after I finished what I dubbed "Project #1." While I was putting the paint away, I came across a can of tan colored paint that the original painters had left behind. I figured this had to be the paint that went in the living room, and I had in idea to do something that I have been wanting to do since we moved in, two years ago. See, from the beginning I have been driving myself crazy with the imperfections that existed from the developer, and I had been dying to have our house repainted. Not just dying, but begging as well. When you add in the scuff marks that come with an active two year old, I can not tell you how much we were in need of a fresh coat of paint.
You see where this is going don't you.
So, after I found the paint I thought I would do a few "touch ups" around my living room. I ran around with the paint covering marks here and there and to be honest, I was feeling pretty proud of myself. That was until the paint dried and I realized one thing. One very important thing. The paint I found was not, in fact, the paint that was on the walls. I don't know if it was the color or the application, but either way my entire 900sq foot living room with 14 foot ceilings looked like something that resembled a dalmatian puppy. There were literally spots EVERYWHERE.
After a few choice words, and a kicking of my own ass I realized there was only one thing to do. I had to repaint the entire living room. Yes, I. As in by myself. As in me, the one who has never ever painted anything other than my little "projects" in my life. As in, what the hell did I get myself into.
My husband said to take my time, he also said "maybe" we should hire a professional, but considering that I am a psycho when it comes to chaos and a perfectionist at a minimum, I decided that I would not only do it myself, but have it done by the weekend.
I told you I was consumed, didn't I?
Well, everyone around here thought I was crazy, but somehow it is now 2pm on Saturday and I am happy to report that not only is the whole room done, but it looks better than it ever did. (My hubby's words not mine.) Sure there were some serious bumps along the way, but walking in no one would ever know, and I am now more confident than ever that I, and I alone, can pretty much take on any project that comes my way.
This was my house at the beginning of the week (when the madness was just beginning.)
And to think It all started with a spot. Honestly, I'm just glad it's over (and that no one got sick from the amount of fumes that filled my home.)
Note to self: painting is hard work.
Second note to self: always test new paint in a small area prior to covering the entire house.
Third note to self: toddlers make excellent assistants when it comes to the "pre" painting, the "actual" painting... not so much.