Thursday, August 27, 2015
Botox for the Home
I am using my blog this morning to avoid painting my ceiling. There is only one thing worse than sanding my architraves and that is painting the ceilings. It's messy and by the end of the job my neck will be crying uncle louder than the voice that gleefully announced - "No worries, I can paint the whole house by myself!"
I have also spent the last few days testing various shades of grey on the walls of the living room (lounge room in Australian). I now have a dozen splotches painted in various locations of three shades that graduate from too light to too dark and am leaning toward the one in the middle that in classic Goldilock fashion seems "just right". However, before I commit, the sun needs to come out to confirm my choice and just when I needed "sunny Queensland" to live up to its name, clouds fill the morning sky here and are not giving me a reading on the possible "right" grey. Had I got my confirmation, I would be off to Earle's Paint Place to order up a few cans of "Athens" grey. Instead, these clouds are forcing me to get my painting cap on (literally) and hold my head tilted backward for the next few hours as my face enjoys a spray mist of latex just to add insult to injury to my sprained neck muscles.
Once I get into the painting, I am OK. It is rather meditative actually. It is akin to mowing the lawn; each swipe of the brush or roller improving the look of the wall, covering the old ugly colour and other blemishes, like photo shop for drywall. A miracle really. It just took my laundry room from 1982 to 2015. Talk about transformation! It was like a wrinkle cream that actually worked. Hmmm, could I be on to something? Maybe a bit of ceiling paint on my forehead will iron out that furrow between my brows that seems more and more prominent with each passing day.
If it works, I'll let you know. I will text you as I am boarding my private jet to Mustique as hundreds of women line up at Earle's for a gallon of Decomama's Flat Ceiling White Miracle in a Can.
A girl can dream. ;-)