I recently mentioned that since 2013 rolled around, I've been cleaning out my home and getting rid of the clutter in a major way. That was phase 1 of my small scale home makeover. Phase 2 was painting the walls a bright, cheery color. Saturday, I enlisted the help of my southern beau to begin our painting adventure. He manned the roller while I used a brush to cut in the edges (I do read Young House Love so I know a thing or two about painting.)
Oh, first I should mention that when I went to open my bedroom window to let in some fresh air, my window blinds came flying out of their frame and landed in a warped heap on the floor. So I was already cursing quietly under my breath.
But back to painting. We heard a snap and my southern beau, who apparently doesn't know his own strength, had broken the paint roller. I didn't even know those things would break...I mean, they are metal. So he proceeded to try and use the broken roller for a bit (while complaining) and I finally convinced him to go to the hardware store for a new one.
While he was gone, I was painting when I heard water dripping in the living room. I live on the ground floor of an older apartment building that has been converted to condos. For some reason the melting snow had found its way down through four other floors of condos and into my living room ceiling, where big fat drops were dripping from the ceiling's seam across the width of the room. And landing on/soaking my furniture. And television.
When I heard my beau's key in the door, I said "honey, something has happened." But I'm not sure I could have prepared him for what.
Nine buckets, assorted cooking pots and garbage cans later, we caught most of the leaking water (after moving everything from that side of the room to the other side). Then someone stepped on paint and tracked it around on the carpet. Then one of the dogs went number 2 in the bathroom floor.
And then I loudly said to nobody in particular, "THIS IS WHY I'LL NEVER BE A DIY BLOGGER!!!!!" And I silently cursed those darn cheerful self-deprecating Petersiks for every single DIY project they do that looks so darn easy and fun. But everything worked out in the end. We finished painting the hallway (which was less than I'd hoped to accomplish, but considering the furniture moving/bucket brigade situation, I'll take it). We even managed to laugh about everything after it was all over.
But I can't visit Young House Love for awhile. It's still just too raw.