I own a nice brush. I bought quality paint. I sanded and primed properly. I’ve painted ceilings, walls, trim, floors in 5 different states, 6 different domiciles. Satin, flat, matte, semi-gloss, stain, paint stain, epoxy, and varnish. Interior, exterior, basement, attic, kitchen.You name it. I’ve painted it. And while I’m no pro, I can lay some paint.
But you know what? I was standing in Sherwin Williams the other day waiting for my paint to shake and I saw that their Dickies painters pants were on sale. It was a really good sale, only $18. That’s a great price for any kind of pants, an exceptional price for magic skill infused painters pants. I didn’t buy them.
Here we are, a little more than 24 hours later and I am commencing with painting the bathroom. I am all geared up in my ladies Carhartts and I am feeling ill-prepared. Queasy that I could do better.
Don’t mistake the situation. The ladies Carhartts are good, solid pants. They lived in 3 states with me. They traveled to 3 continents with me. They knelt with me inside them in the mud of a 4,000 year old whale hunting household in Chukotka. They crouched with me in 27,000 year old cave deposits in Portugal – where they also worked with me on a 100,000 year old Neanderthal beach camp. These pants and I have spent weeks on survey in the Western Aleutian Islands.
Now, here in Buffalo, they are paint pants. But the trouble is, the thing that keeps bugging at my mind, they are FIELD pants really. Not paint pants at all.
I just have this terrible feeling that I do injustice to the pants by painting in them, and injustice to the bathroom paint jobs by not having the proper pants on for the job.
UPDATE, REMARKABLE UPDATE: From 1,500 miles away, WideEyedCousin D had my local Sherwin Williams store put aside a set of painters pants just for me. WideEyedCousinD, I thank you, the paint thanks you, and the house is ever-so-grateful. The Carhartts just want to hug you.