>Into the pool that is the blogsphere.
Still a little cold, but yet…not…unbearable.
Perhaps I’ll just wade for a bit.
All of my belongings are now in my new home. It’s fabulous, though in various stages of disarray. I would like to consider myself content. I would like to say I have closure. However….
Deep in the foothills of the Snoqualmie valley…
A sinister evil lies, waiting…
For my return.
The evil known as…
“The pathetic-looking disaster you left in your old apartment that you now have to clean up, you slovenly unkempt folk!”
Bollocks. Wish I could just sweet-talk someone into cleaning it for me. Thanks to my moving expenses, I can’t afford to pay someone. If only I could coast through life on nothing more than my wit and charm. Alas, what a fickle world.
There is, however, another issue at hand. An issue that reaches far beyond just soap scum and toilet rings. An issue that I myself was afflicted with some time ago that now, thanks to my recent home purchase, has the potential to resurface. An issue that makes the cleaning segment of our transition seem like getting a manicure.
Yes, I am speaking of…
The Paint Creep.
Dum dum DUMMMMMM!!!!
There is a bit of history here. So pull up a chair, grab some cocoa and a spatula, and prepare to be completely underwhelmed.
Bryan used to travel for his job. A lot. Which was fine, except…I should not be left unattended for too long. Not because I am clingy and emotionally needy, but because I tend to engage in activities that, though not considered unacceptable or taboo, I would not normally undertake in completely supervised situations.
Thus I speak of the Paint Creep.
Dum dum DUMMMMMM!!!!
The Paint Creep, ladies and gentlemen, starts out innocently enough. An accent wall, nothing more, nothing less. Your stark, sterile, operating-room white walls are suddenly transformed into a warm, cozy environment by one unassuming red wall. Accent wall. Lovely. You are at peace. Life is good.
But no one tells you…oh, no…they don’t dare. They want you to have this life experience all on your own. What they don’t tell you, is accent walls can be like…well, crack. You paint one, it looks nice. Well, if one looks nice, then what about two? Ah, yes. Hunter green. On the opposing wall in the dining room. Splendid. Damn, that felt great. Green. I have accomplished something. I am Martha-fucking-Stewart. I am a god of interior decor. My work is now…complete.
Until your husband is sent to Spokane for 3 weeks on business and you are left sitting alone in your apartment with oodles of time on your hands doing what…?
staring at the walls.
The Paint Creep saga continues.
The green accent wall in the dining room begins to ooze around the corner into the hallway. But oh, it is the loveliest shade of green. Who doesn’t like green? Indeed. What harm can it do? It just compliments my paintings so well. Besides, I’ve still got an entire gallon of this stuff, why let it go to waste?
Ah, yes. Green hallway. Splendid.
I feel I have led into this in such a way as to eliminate the need for elaboration.
As with most experiences in life, the joy is fleeting. Because for some strange reason, the management of my apartment complex is of the opinion that since I felt it was necessary to paint so many damn colored walls in my apartment, that they felt the need to inform me that I’d damned well better paint them back.
So thus I go. The fireplace wall, the dining room wall, the landing and even the damned stairwell. This weekend. This is indeed going to suck. I just want to live in my new studio for a couple days. I’ve been on an artistic hiatus ever since house-hunting began, I am beginning to experience withdrawal. I am in a creative drought. Good thing I can quench my thirst in the blogsphere wading pool.
So now I shall put my water wings away and dive into the kiddy end of the blogsphere until I have finally rid myself of this apartment once and for all. Oh, what a happy day that will be.
Voulez-voulez-vous water-based primer.
Oh, and don’t let me forget to blog next about my new studio. It’s…stellar…