Wednesday, July 8, 2015

Painting Your Dining Room - For Dummies

Painting Your Dining Room – For Dummies

Step 1 – Don’t do it.  Either call a professional or learn to live with it.

You’re still here.

Why are you still here?

Oh, I see.  You have already started painting and are just now Google-ing  for help.

Yeah, that’s where I’m at right now too.

Here is an outline of the process I have used to bring about complete dining room destruction, I mean, transformation.

Monday Morning: Awake, refreshed from the long weekend thinking, “Good gravy!  I really can’t stand my nasty, greasy, pockmarked, flat finished, mulberry colored walls one second longer.”  Thereby resolve to spend the next day or two painting.  In preparation I remove the pictures.  I have to Google how to remove the blinds.  This is my first official piece of research. 

Monday Evening: Leave the house clean and organized for my two hour karate class.  Swing by Walmart at 9:30 p.m. to pick up a few essentials.  Like, everything.  I don’t even know if we own a paint brush, other than the 35 watercolor brushes that congregate underneath the couch.  After an hour of agonizing deliberation I buy a gallon of white primer, a painter’s starter kit, an extension pole, a paint stirrer, a putty knife, spackling, sandpaper, a big-ol’-hole-in-the-wall repair kit and a box of latex gloves.  Why the gloves?  Well, the picture on the –big-ol’-hole-in-the-wall repair kit featured one gloved hand wielding a putty knife as it repairs a big ol’ hole in the wall.  That’s why.
I retired to bed at the reasonable hour of 12:30, wanting to be sure and awake on the morn refreshed and ready to paint some wall.

Tuesday Morning:  I drag my carcass out of bed around 0830.  I spend the next four hours filling in holes, gashes and gouges with the spackling.   
I dust the walls with a rag taped to my extension pole.  
I sand the petrified food off from behind the high chair.   
I conduct frantic Google searches.
I get behind on the laundry.
I take a phone call.  “Do you want to come over and hang out awhile?” queried my good friend Rebecca.  “Absolutely!”  I was ready to get out of the house for awhile. 

 The rest of the afternoon the kids played with their friend and swam in the rain.  When we left, it was time for supper before we headed over to singing lessons.  It just so happens that Tuesday was the anniversary celebration for the Global Domicile of Flapjacks.  (GDOF)   

GDOF was advertising 57 cent pancakes.  Just the perfect meal for a cool, rainy evening.  So thought everyone else in Tulsa.  There were 57 people squished in the waiting area.  “How long is the wait?” I asked.  “Not long at all, just 10, maybe 20 minutes.
 Hmm, let’s do some math.  I have an hour and a half before our next appointment.  There are 57 people in line to be seated, at the rate of 3 people every 15 minutes.  Add the time it takes for me to argue over the menu with four kids who don’t understand the concept of 57 cent short stacks, order and wait for our order to arrive, plus the time it takes to mop up the syrup that gets spilled 18 times, plus the time it takes to pay our server and drag five sticky children through the crowd and the total time spent is approximately 2 weeks. 

We walked next door to Wendy’s.
 To avoid a riot, I promised to make homemade pancakes for breakfast tomorrow.

Tuesday Evening:  After we finish our Family Singing Lessons, I put the more destructive members of the family to bed.  I spackle some more.  I sand some more.   I dust some more.  I employ the big-ol’-hole-in-the-wall repair kit.  Latex gloves be hanged!  I start taping the trim. 
I tape. 
And I tape. 
And I tape. 
We are in possession of way more trim than I ever realized.
I finally give in and go to bed at the more reasonable hour of 11:30.

Wednesday Morning: Awake in a cold sweat.  I promised to make them pancakes. 
“Hey, does anyone want French Toast?  Anyone? ”  Nope.  No one.
 I make pancakes.
After breakfast I commence to taping in earnest.  I haven’t showered.  I’m still in my tie-dyed T-shirt and yoga pants that I wear as pajamas. 
I spackle some more.
I sand some more.
I tape even more.
The house disintegrates into a black hole of chaos while I steadfastly tape a little bit more.
It is important to note that the most essential part of any home repair task is to have plenty of help.  You need at least four children under the age of 10 to pick up and walk off with important tools.  You could probably use three who are floating sanders.  They will sand every surface in the house and each other.  And don’t forget a screaming toddler who can throw cups of water, eat spackle globs and scrub the toilet with your toothbrush!

Wednesday Afternoon: I am almost finished with the taping, spackling and sanding.  I finally got my shower.  The clean and orderly home on Monday is long gone.  The kids are one their second video of the day.  But you know what?  I feel really good.  If Pa Ingalls can hew his own logs and Ma can spin her own cloth, surely I, Mary On The Banks Of Indian Springs, armed with a Smart Phone can Google my way through painting the dining room.

I hope.  Because professional help is really expensive.

 We have to leave for the Chiropractor appointment, run by the library and go to church.  But, when I get back, I might, just maybe start rolling the primer.  Or maybe I’ll just continue to tape and spackle indefinitely.

Stay tuned for more helpful hints.

On second thought, you better look elsewhere for helpful hints.  But if it’s humorous horror stories you need, I’m your gal!