wideeyedfunk

Tag: painting

  • Home Renovation Made Possible by the 1970s.

    If Looking Glass had never recorded Brandy (my life, my love, and my lady is the seaaaaa), would I have been able rebuild and repair every half fixed house I’ve lived in for the past 15 years?

    If the Commodores didn’t make Brick House (She’s a brick-house. Mighty, mighty, just letting it all hang out), could I have boogied my way through edging uncountable ceilings on the top of a high ladder, among the fumes and echoes?

    How long could I have endured the paint striper chemical gloves without Carly Simon’s You’re So Vain (I bet you thought this color was pret-ty, pret-ty, you’re so tacky…)?

    The WideEyedSpouse hears the ocean rumbling and smells suntan lotion when we stream Big Joe Henry’s 1970s heavy show on New Jersey 101.5 or the itunes Best of the 1970s. The Spouse grew up in Ocean City, roasting in the summer sun, listening to pop music on transistor radios. Me? I hear sanders and smell sawdust because I grew up in old houses. I failed to learn from my youth and I still live in them. And for whatever reason, nothing I can articulate, Saturdays, and the 70s music are for home renovation.

    The roller rolls better to Poppa Was a Rolling Stone. The Midnight Train to Georgia makes me edge cleaner. The BeeGees make me sand harder, Fleetwood Mac sends me screaming from the room for a coffee break. And always, without fail, as soon as my hands are too junked up to touch the tech, the interminable ten hour (ok, minute) American Pie song comes on. “Long long time ago…” Bathroom break.

    Painting to the 80s doesn’t work. Sanding to the 90s, no good. Millennial music? Great in the car but it just doesn’t have that steady 70s underthrum that keeps a person working, when she’d really rather be lounging around eating snacks and reading novels.

    paintingThe WideEyedSpouse and I finished a painting project last weekend. A urine-y yellow upstairs foyers is now a glowing Rock Candy (Sherwin Williams #6231) grey. We edged three layers of paint around nine doors and one ceiling. We rolled the tiny flat spaces between walls. We boogied through it with help of the 70s and my magic painter’s pants. And maybe some beer.

  • I know I would paint better if I had a pair of Dickies painters pants.

    Wine: Does Not Impair My Ability to Paint Awesomely.

    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.

    The magic pants!

    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.