Righto, when sun is shining and spring is short, you’re wondering why anyone would be standing naked in a dark, empty room eating cold Brussel sprouts. The simple answer would leave you thinking that person is nuts, so it’s better you hear the truth.
So, a good man is leaving for vacation.
His wife is staying home to write.
Wife suggests that while he’s away, she will paint the bathroom.
He gets that pained look that says ‘please, no’.
But why not? Because when I get back there will be walls missing, the tile floor will be covered in paint, and I’ll have to clean up and build new walls because you don’t care. You make a mess.
GAME ON.
The day before he leaves, the wife forces him to his version of hell, the paint color wall at Sherwin Williams. There at that marvelous wall of possibility, she glows.
Ocean blue?
Hot Lips Red?
Bahamas Sun?
In his misery, he tells her what he thinks - he thinks the bathroom is just fine, it does not need painting.
She is shocked. That awful shade that's the house came with, that ‘Deep Bronchitis’, is just fine? Nope. Opponent wife wants to fill the walls with a symphony of lush wallpaper, giant pink cabbage roses and peach peonies and red roses. But as a good wife, as marriage is compromise, she will go with paint. They settle on ‘Serious Grey’.
Seriously?
Yes.
How much paint do they need? He says a gallon. She says it’s a tiny powder room, for God’s sake, and insists she will get the piddly little space done using one pint. He reminds her there are five walls in there and each wall needs three coats. What follows is a short but heated debate, one about one pint being more expensive than just buying one gallon off the top. They leave the store with one pint of stubbornness and determination - she will put a POW! into their POWder room.
DAY ONE: Wife wakes up with a raging cold. Husband is leaving for vacation in the sun with high school friends! She drops him off and cheerily coughs into her tissue. ‘Have fun!’. Snurf. He hauls his suitcase out of the trunk, all smiles. She drives home feeling hit by a truck.
At home, she should write but there’s that powder room to conquer.
He has taped off the trim and window and ceiling.
He has lined up the proper tools.
He has removed light bulbs, replaced them with LED bulbs for better painting visibility.
Should a painter wear painting clothes? Nah. She’s wearing a new sweatshirt but what the heck, she’s feeling under the weather, she won’t get paint on it.
She considers how to get paint onto walls. He left brushes big and small, rollers in four sizes. Why are there so many options? Smart as a whip, to make the pint of paint go farther, she decides on the smallest roller, a sort of sponge.
Smart as a whip, she’ll paint the edges first. HahA! Paint goes on smoothly! The faucet is disconnected so her nose decides to fill the gap. Sneezes. Blows her nose then uses the same toilet paper to wipe paint drips off the floor.
Corners done!
Job almost finished!
It looks great!
There’s that fourth wall. Smart as a whip, she leaves it blank in case she has to get creative and stretch the pint. This is easy!
How did paint get on the sweatshirt? It will come out in the wash.
How did paint get on the floor?
Paint does not come out in the wash. Sweatshirt aside, she will fix that later, she’ll scrape off the hard bits… later.
Day TWO: Serious Grey coat #1 dries beautifully. Why not circle back, why not move into coat number two right away? Second coat goes on kind of selfishly, the roller takes clumps off coat number one along the way and there’s not much left in the can.
Keep going!
Hearing her husband’s worry in her head, she pertly washes the roller and brush and leaves them on the kitchen counter.
DAY THREE: sick.
DAY FOUR: Time to paint. Another coat. She’s so sick she can hardly breathe but it’s a cold, for God’s sake, get over it. The kitchen counter has a few stains but those will scrape off later.
In the POWder room, well, in that corner there’s going to be a sink and in that corner a cabinet, so you stretch what’s left of the paint and ignore those bits of wall.
Why is it that when you tip a roller, water drips out and those drips bring out the old paint again?
The tiny room is freezing. Why doesn’t the heating vent work – it might need a jiggle - clink! – vent broken. Damn it.Sneeze. She wipes the floor with toilet paper and uses the wad to wipe her nose. Who cares?
The fourth wall has not been touched and there’s no more paint. Husband will not be right. She will use what they have, a can of… chalkboard paint? Black.
After a tiny room has been painted Serious Grey, a fourth wall painted black might or might not make the room look closed in. Okay, fine, it looks like a morgue. What other colors do they have in the garage? She will not be called on this, she will use one of them. Pink. They have a quarter can of candy pink. She mixes pink with Serious Grey and look at that, a new shade, Pepto Dismal, a weird ‘grink’ shade. Grink goes over black chalk board paint but you have to press and the sponge roller is now a pancake. Do it anyway. Leave streaks. Who cares? Drips on the floor. Wipes the floor then blows her nose. Lesson: do not leave drips of paint on a tile floor overnight.
Why, when you flick off the light switch, does one of the light bulbs stay ON?
Agent calls with an audition. Drop everything! Print sides! Start to memorize! Self tape due in 2 days! Trusty cameraman/ reader/ technician is on vacation with high school buddies. She calls friend Lisa, who agrees to come over and help tomorrow.
This wife is an actor who has to get healthy. Now. While memorizing lines she roasts Brussels Sprouts and eats them with toast.
What Day? : A cold is always at its worst at night and in the morning. Her lungs wake up feeling a strange kinship with old paint colour.
She chooses a wardrobe for the audition. The ‘business casual’ blouse is dirty. Lisa is not coming until this afternoon. She’ll wash it.
But that powder room. Looking at that fourth wall, the white ceiling is fine, if you ignore the blotches of black. The tile floor is covered in splotches. The walls are streaky. One more coat. He’s coming home tomorrow.
One blouse does not a laundry load make. There is little clothing without paint on it. She has learned a lesson. Smart as a whip, she sheds jammies and housecoat and places them in the wash. Wearing nothing but reading glasses, she paints naked as she eats cold Brussels sprouts.
That’s the long answer. That’s the truth.