For the last few months I've been posting about the horror of our blueberry colored Master Bedroom, and this weekend it was finally repainted. This is probably around the four thousand three hundred and eleventh room that I've changed from a vomit inducing shade to something tolerable over the years, and seriously, the reveals never get old. The first place I ever tackled was a condominium unit covered in a heavy textured wallpaper, which I painted blood red in the winter of 2000, and I'm not even going to admit how especially terrible it ended up looking. Let's just say that I didn't realize there was a difference in paint roller types or technique and my back up plan was to repaint it if it didn't come out well, because painting only takes like half a second or something, right? (See. When I tell you I started from nothing, I DO NOT EXAGGERATE.)
And there were no strippers to help back then, either.
The second place I painted was a six hundred square foot one bedroom that I doused in a layer of Antique White, which led to the realization that painting isn't nearly as much fun as it looks in She's Having A Baby, especially without Kevin Bacon doing most of the work. These days my shoulders begin dislocating themselves whenever I buy a new place and even begin to think about the rollers and the brushes and the plastic and the taping and the dripping. So somewhere along the way (five or six years ago?) I started contracting out the work.
Then that redhead came along.
The story ends like this: He reminds me that I can totally do it myself for free and I start envisioning my wildly irresponsible paint contracting expenditures hurling us into the soup line and forcing the dogs to survive on scraps and Skittles and half empty cans of Nat Light. Because I'm rational like that.
The irony is that Andrew is the one who prefers to contract things out, to spend a little extra money when it makes sense, and who is well versed in delegating responsibilities. I, on the other hand, hear SAVE and MONEY in the same sentence and I start thinking things like, But I still totally fit into this shirt from 1988 so what's the problem?!
Because of that, we've been painting The Historic House By The Water ourselves, or Andrew has been painting it, and so far there have been no replays of the red wall incident, THANK YOU, GOD.
And, seriously, did he not do the best job on The Master Bedroom?
I certainly think so, but now you all are giving me doubts about the color because I've gotten three emails in a row saying OHMYGAWD, YOU PAINTED IT BLUE AGAIN? Which is kind of like telling me it looks like I sprayed it with dog feces AGAIN. If you saw it in person, though, you wouldn't say that, I'm telling you, and you'd be begging to know how such a subtle gray with cool base undertones could make you want to hire the same strippers that Andrew uses. And you'd even tip them.
I'm telling you.
Anyway. Finally, we have a Master Bedroom that does not look like The Purple People Eater, FINALLY, and no matter what you say I swear that it's gray, gray, a perfectly gloomy gray. And there will be no repainting. Because the only thing that needs to be colorful in that room is what happens when the door is closed.
walls: Eddie Bauer Vintage Gray EB48-1 in Satin
doors and trim: Eddie Bauer Oyster EB12-4 in Semi-Gloss