When we finally got the keys to our new house and started buying paint and supplies, I said to Tara, “I don’t know why some people make a big deal about painting. It isn’t rocket science.”
No, it’s not. It’s harder.
With rocket science, you just have to punch some coordinates into a computer and let the machine do the rest. Your rocket is basically on auto-pilot the whole time, dodging asteroids and untethered cosmonauts and “weather balloons” before reaching its final destination, be that the Sea of Tranquility, the moons of Saturn, or the Martian surface. Easy-peasy.
Painting, on the other hand? Neither easy nor peasy.
It’s actually a pain in the ass. Even before you ever pick up a roller or brush, you’ve got to decide on colors. And you can’t just pick, say, orange. There are 180 results for that color alone on the Clark+Kensington color palette, and good luck deciphering the names. I kind of get African Lion, Hawaiian Sunset, and Aged Terra-Cotta. At least I can reasonably envision what those look like. But what color is a Southern Belle? And, c’mon…Make Me Laugh? Sing Along? Imagine? Dreamer? All actual paint names that might as well be commands or song titles.
And can you really put a color on Wedded Bliss?
Pro tip: never look at paint samples on an empty stomach. After perusing Chilled Gazpacho, Apricot Butter, Toasted Cashew, Baguette, Peach Cobbler, Caramel Corn, Shrimp Bisque, Pumpkin Latte, Buttered Rum, Mac ‘n Cheese, Sweet Potato Pie, Acorn Squash, Layered Cake, and Sourdough, I’d worked up quite an appetite. I could no longer remember whether I was planning a menu for the Mother of All Dinner Parties or choosing wall colors.
God help me, don’t even get me started on something as simple as white. THERE IS NO COLOR WHITE IN THE WORLD OF PAINT. Instead, you have to figure out the difference between Eggshell and Frost and (probably) Virginal Bride.
Then, once you’ve chosen your colors or gone insane, you have to start the actual painting — assuming you’ve done the prep work, like spackling (that’s an entirely separate blog post) and priming. Sure, you think the painting part is going to be easy — Mr. Miyagi sure made it look cool — but suddenly you’re contending with accent walls and ceilings and edges. You’ve got to put tape up around the closets, windows, baseboards, and trim. And then, apparently, you’re supposed to remove said tape while the paint is still wet, otherwise you’ll pull it off in long strips and have to re-edge. Which, by the way, is my least favorite chore in the whole process, none of which thrills me to begin with. Because no matter how careful you are and how fancy the tools you use, it’s impossible to get a perfectly straight line on 90-degree corners.
Oh, and did I mention you’re likely to have to do all of this at least twice — if not three or more times, depending on how dark your colors are — because one coat of paint is never enough, not even for a “white” ceiling.
Which is why it took me four days to complete a single room. Granted, these weren’t 8- or 10-hour days. I spent a few hours every evening after work on the room that will be my home office. And I probably could have made it easier on myself if I’d chosen a single color instead of three separate ones and just left the ceiling alone. But, all that grumbling aside, I have to admit it turned out looking really nice.
Those four walls and a ceiling took a grand total of seven coats of paint. My reward for all this? A sore neck, bruised elbows (that carpet is rough), and paint-splattered hands and clothes. But I figure I’ll be spending three days a week staring at those walls, so they’d better look good. Once I hang up some rock ‘n roll posters and add a lava lamp or four, it’ll feel nice and cozy.
The one saving grace? Since we’re replacing all the flooring, we didn’t care about paint splattering onto the carpet. Adding drop cloths to the mix would have sent me over the edge.
My sense of accomplishment will be short-lived, however. This afternoon, I’m turning around and tackling the master bedroom and basement. Time waits for no man, you know?
Wish me luck and bring me Advil. Or something stronger.
Mark My Words 
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