It is possible that if I had known it would take three coats of red, plus a coat of primer, working out to a solid gallon of red paint PER WALL, that I might have given green a bit more thought.
One long wall done. And it is red, really red, fire-engine red, Fiestaware red, shaving cut blotted on toilet paper red.
I sagged down, exhausted, and said “If we hate this in six weeks, I’m gonna cry.”
Kevin, surveying the newly red wall, said kindly “If we hate it in six weeks, we’ll just live with it for awhile anyway.”
I almost hate that I am going to cover that wall in bookcases soon. I worked so hard on it. It is so very red.
Also, I love spackle. Spackle is awesome. It is like the universe saying “Ha! There is a hole! This is damaged!” and me getting to say “Nuh-uh!” Spackle gives me faith that nothing is irreparable–not hearts, not credit scores, not Middle Eastern politics.
Possibly my sudden desire to form the First Church Of Put A Little Spackle On It, It’ll Be Fine is proof that I am overtired and have been breathing too many fumes.
Tomorrow…another wall! The one that’s all windows, so there’s hardly any painting!