This past weekend, Will and I attempted our first major home improvement project since having the baby. We have this utility room which was in pretty sad shape. Think old, wavy shelving, no place to hang drying clothing (except off the edges of the wavy shelves), and walls so dingy that they would have become their own shade in the Crayola box (Filth Blanc?). When we moved in, we just shoved our stuff in there which certainly didn’t help the overall appearance. We’d get to it “later.”
Later was this past weekend. Our dryer was roughly 20+ years old, and despite Will’s attempt to fix it (so old that he couldn’t even find the appropriate part), it was on its last leg. Our new fancy dryer was delivered on Friday so we figured this was the perfect time to drag everything out, repaint, hang new shelving, and put everything back in in an organized fashion. I had estimated that we could complete this project in a day if we could get an early enough start.
You should already have guessed that I was WAY off on my estimate. This project dragged out for the whole weekend. Part of it was due to the typical “older home” syndrome, wherein everything is just a bit more complicated, such as when Will tried to replace the switches and outlets in there prior to painting. I also wasn’t feeling all that great, so my energy level was way low. And then someone had to be with Stella at all times, effectively cutting our work force in half; it’s like having a wonderful and cute 21 pound albatross. However we needed to do this so we all just gritted our teeth and pressed on.
I certainly can’t rewire squat, and it’s probably best that I not attempt to hang shelving. I know what I’m good at. Therefore, I agreed to tackle the bulk of the painting (I do give Will uber credit for doing the ceiling at the very end when I had to put the baby to sleep). While I was finally putting the paint on (post priming), I could hear Stella and Daddy playing in the living room. I heard this horrible “GACK” sound from Will followed by an “Oh god she’s torn out my throat.” Stella had performed her ham-fist grab maneuver and caught him right in the skin over his Adam’s apple. She punctuated this a few minutes later by grabbing his glasses, ripping them off his face, and sticking her index finger in his left eye in the process. He was convinced he’d have a black eye, but fortunately he awoke contusion-free the next morning. It was a great weekend, can’t you tell?