A renovation confession
As Mr. Speedy and I move forward on redecorating and settling into our new home, I feel like I need to make a confession:
I am a lousy painter.
The only thing I've ever painted is the exterior of a barn in my parent's backyard. And, a few weeks after that paint job, an enormous tree fell on it. It landed dead centre and flattened the thing — but, I must say, the walls still looked nice.
Fast-forward a few years and I'm now trying to prime all of the many patched holes in my house.
My combination of inexperience and a slight perfectionist tendency may be making it tougher. Mr. Speedy reassures me that small visible brush strokes and the slightest of bumps can be easily sanded away, but I still feel guilty, as though I'm making the house less pretty.
I also feel slightly like I'm failing. After all, all the decor mags say anyone can paint, and I can't be that much more inept than the majority of the population, right?
So, here's hoping that practice makes perfect. I've got a lot of spots to cover, then walls and ceilings to repaint (with the help of Mr. Speedy, of course, who is thankfully more able than I — and he's got the benefit of a long reach for all those tough spots) and I can't keep spending half an hour on a small one-by-one foot spot (or let my perceived failures on that spot keep me up at night).
This weekend, we'll be tackling the remaining primer spots and then we'll try to banish all that persistent drywall dust. Keep your fingers crossed that this prepares me for the real deal — painting with colour — in a few weeks!