Painting the house

Painting the house

Painting the house

Millie, Badly Drawn Mum

Today we began the massive task of painting the house. Painting is one of those jobs I romanticise about, imagining Dave and I in overalls, up stepladders, with a “I could do this for a living” type of whistle. In my head it only takes half an hour to do the whole place and then we flick paint at each other like flirty teenagers. (It is also possible I’ve seen too many adverts for DIY superstores.)

Anyway, the reality turns out to be 25,000 times more boring, involving endless tedious preparation, horrible fumes and an on-going discussion about which radio station to listen to. The highlight was when the MIL dropped Evie and Tom back early (“There’s a committee meeting at the hall!”) and they had a field day in an empty 10-litre tub of white emulsion.


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Cue massive panic as Dave and I tripped down our ladders, trying to minimise the damage. It was one of those cases where you’re not sure which disaster to head off first (“OMG, the carpets!” “Noooo, get it off their hands!!!’”) After 6 hours we’ve prepped one room, painted half a wall and I’ve been on my knees with the Flash, removing wet paint from the only bits of the house that didn’t actually need painting.

As I put Evie to bed this evening she asked if we could paint the house everyday because it was “really funny!” And you know what? It was.

- Thursday 14th January 2013

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