I’ve been workin’ like a man. I don’t mean any offense to women by that comment. We all know that women NEVER stop working; however, I’ve been acting like Bob The Builder this week and I don’t much care for it. My muscles are sore, my toe-polish is chipped, and I am speckled with paint.
FringeMan told me that I wasn’t being paid by the hour to paint so I should speed things up. He also says that I have a Michelangelo complex and teased that Michelangelo painted the Sistene Chapel faster than I painted the second floor of our house. Good things take time and the wordwork on the second floor took three coats of paints and 672 squats. I can barely walk today. I’m burning my late eighties ‘Legs of Steel’ video and getting a job as a painting contractor. I’ll have better thighs than Kentucky Fried Chicken.
Please ignore the lumpiness of my bedroom walls. They are much like my thighs before the 672 squats. If we waited until we got every wall in our house smooth, we wouldn’t be able to move in until my children turned 48 and 50. I’m really happy with this color. It’s a Martha color called sand, an original name for a color that looks just like, um, sand.
FringeKid chose her own color which happens to be lemon twist. You don’t even need the light from that single bulb hanging from the ceiling. It’s daylight 24/7 when you paint with lemon twist. The color card should come with a UV warning.
I think that light fixture may be original to the house which is well over 100 years old. My nostalgic side gets a little sad to think that I’m going to remove it and replace it with a ceiling fan. I would keep it, but FringeMan’s two greatest loves in life, aside from The Dairy Queen herself, are ceiling fans and recessed lights. Every room gets them whether I like it or not. I’ll just be happy when we get more outlets. Each room has one light and one outlet. No extravagance in the days of early electricity. In fact, the living room doesn’t even have a light.
While taking a break from painting, I finally managed to muster enough courage to head down to the basement. I’ve learned that unless a house was built after 1950, I don’t even want to see the basement. This basement didn’t change my mind, but I was pleasantly surprised by a fabulous find.
A sink. This is not just any sink, but an old and wonderful sink.
Isn’t she a gem? I know you’re jealous. She’s going to find herself a new home in my kitchen, get a faucet update, and a skirt. I can’t wait. This sink was well worth buying the house. I realize she needs a good scrubbing and will probably need to be reglazed, especially on the bottom of the sinks. Anyone know to restore one of these old gals?