Have you ever had the type of day where your first thought in the morning was,
Today....I shall repaint a wall!?
Who am I kidding? For me, EVERY day begins with my first groggy thought having something to do with paint. Nothing makes me happier.
Paint = happiness.
However, since Santa forgot to load his sleigh with a Home Depot gift card for me (or rubber farming boots, or a goat), my paint palate and choices are slim. With nothing much to redo, I resorted to touch up.
Touch up = slight happiness. Not the real deal, but it suffices in a pinch.
Hubby was kind enough to venture into what the boys and I call 'the spider room' (commonly known as the furnace room) to gather the colors I planned on renewing.
Room by room, I renewed. I even let the boys help, until one sat in paint while the others dripped a paint trail all over the carpet. Note to self: - combining craft time with a home improvement project never works as planned.
I saved the best, the staircase, for last. The place where all fingerprints land, where walls are never spared from flying toys, hot wheels, shoes, and sometimes....flying children. This was a job that not only required touch-up paint, but spackle, too.
Armed with my new favorite tool, hot pink spackle that turns white when it's dry and ready to paint, I filled each little crevice and crack. I waited (impatiently) for the pink to fade to white, and started to paint. Fast forward two hours later, and I was left with a staircase that sparkled and gleamed.
Finding the culprit to this type of criminal activity isn't as hard as it used to be. I went straight to the source.
Wes, of course.
Wes quickly explained, as only Wes could, that I had taken away all of his 'cwacks'.
"I like da cwacks, mama. So I dwew dem back on."
To touch up or not to touch up. That is the question.