Painting and Piñatas

Saturday, I made the move that no one, least of all myself, actually thought would ever come to fruition: I began painting the interior of our house.

Since my priorities earlier in the day included laundry, writing a post, and especially sleeping in, it was midafternoon before the painting process began. As I’ve mentioned earlier, our home took a fair amount of abuse from the previous occupants, so the walls were in a sorry, banged up state when we moved here.

Naturally, my first attempt in this house (yes, surprisingly, I have painted other homes before) was not without glitches.

Among other things I learned, once and for all of eternity, why buying dollar store tape and paint rollers (when you realize your paint supplies are back at your old house) is not, well, advisable.

After starting the taping in one corner and deciding I’d prefer the bigger ladder, I stepped out of the room momentarily, to request LCB’s assistance, and returned a minute later to find my tape like this.

I would have thought it was a practical joke on LCB’s part if I didn’t know how much the man prefers sleeping on a mattress. He did give me a hard time, suggesting I hadn’t secured the tape enough, and demonstrated how to do it. We then turned away for a moment, and when he glanced back again, he saw nothing hanging this time and said, “See, it’s still attached.”

I turned around.

“Look again. It’s not attached at all, Mr. Real Genius,” and he looked and saw the tape all lying on the floor.

So, I ran to the store, purchased brand name tape, came home, and taped up some of the walls. I trimmed the edges with a brush and then opened my new roller. A couple of swipes taught me that, unless I wanted fuzzy-textured walls (as if), I needed a new roll cover. So LCB ran to the store this time and grabbed a new one.

Just to be sadistic I guess, the new roll cover kept slowly slipping off the dollar store handle. LCB got all geeky I’m-An-Engineer about the whole thing and jerry-rigged it, which only prolonged the inevitable. We needed a new handle as well.

So off the man went again to secure a new handle. When he returned, I finally began rolling in earnest while he left to find the minimal items necessary for a Cinco de Mayo party. I painted half of the open kitchen/eating/living room before calling it quits for dinner. The sun had just set, so I turned on all the lights and checked to make sure I hadn’t missed any spots. We had decided to use the same color originally used, but the new paint still came out slightly lighter and less taupe-like than what was already on the walls, so while I was planning to only roll once, I needed to be sure I was thorough.

It was nearly dark when I finished cleaning up and the Cinco de Mayo party finally commenced. LCB served tacos for everyone and margaritas for the family members that actually made productive contributions to the household that day.

Originally, I had plans for making our own piñata with the small people, but that sort of flew out the window when I thought about the fact that it sounded like something Martha Stewart would do, a woman dripping with talent, all in areas where I am lacking. Then, when the paint drama overextended itself, the responsibility of the piñata ultimately fell to LCB.

LCB took a couple of paper bags with handles, placed one inside the other, filled them with candy, and hung them on a rope from the upper deck. It didn’t look one smidgen like a piñata, nor like something Martha Stewart would ever concoct. The small people could have cared less; they just wanted everyone to finish eating so they could have at the candy.

After wolfing down the tacos, LCB and I sipped our margaritas and watched the small people take turns trying to hit the piñata.

We quickly tired of tying the old t-shirt bandana every time, and resorted to throwing it over the small people’s heads instead.

After the bags proved to be more difficult to break than we first imagined, LCB and I were called in to take whacks at them ourselves, hoping we wouldn’t hit too hard and send candy flying into the marsh.

It’s a good look, don’t you think?

Later that night, after everything was put away and the small people were in bed, LCB and I sat back on the couch, tired, and admired my handiwork. I sighed contentedly, commenting on how attractive the walls looked now that they were patched and freshly painted.

And then I sat up straight and stared hard at the middle of the largest wall I had painted. There, right in the very middle of the wall, was an insanely obvious, large spot I had clearly missed.

Let’s just say no fui feliz (or something like that).