White Noise

Mark tends to have a somewhat confused sense of what it takes to do things around here. In his delusional mind, painting the living room is a one day affair. Besides painting, we will be doing wainscoting around the dining area, crown molding throughout the entire space, a new ceiling fan, and a new dining room light fixture. Mark honestly thought this would all be done by bedtime Tuesday.

The sheer scope of the job has been something I've feared for a long time. I would sit there in my big fluffy chair, and see the gigantic entertainment center Mark had bought, the china cabinet stuffed full of various crapola, and the bookcases jammed with hundreds of pounds of books, and think, 'I have to move that shit if I paint'. Mark is of no help, he can barely move his own self, much less a piece of furniture. I did ask him to remove as much crap as possible from the various tables, cabinets, and bookcases before I started. He removed a couple of vases from on top of the china cabinet and called it a day.

Anyway, I have started the job with the painting of the ceiling. Damn I hate painting ceilings. Besides the fact that your arm turns into mush halfway through it, and paint spatters in your face, I have a problem seeing where I have painted already and where I haven't. It's all white! I've tried to keep tabs on where I left off, but when I get off the ladder to move it, I look back up and I'm lost. I just know that when I'm all done, I'll be sitting there in my chair, staring at that ceiling, and counting the missed spots. I have the cure for that though, lower wattage light bulbs.