We'd been meaning to re-paint the living room, the guest bathroom, that ceiling of the screened in back patio and, of course the studio, for a long, long time. Like 26 years a long time. I guess the fact that it wasn't urgent is a nod to the quality of the paint the last homeowner used. But it was time. Beyond time. And now I can't believe we lived with the quickly deteriorating paint for as long as we did.
I'd like you to believe that I volunteered to climb ladders, scrape paint, re-caulk long beams positioned high up, and also to bleach the ceiling of the patio to remediate some small moldy cultures. I'd like to tell you that I couldn't wait to clean the abused white walls of the studio/office to prep them for my expert application of new paint. I'd like for you to believe that I relish hard work like this. That I have no fear of heights and love to hang out on the top two steps of twelve foot ladders. All carefree and relaxed. I'd like to write all those things with a straight face but I would worry that B. might read this blog post and write a pithy and much more honest rebuttal. Showcasing my reticence to do anything really productive around the house. And I would be so embarrassed.
But in my defense I have been here every day to answer questions, help out, make coffee for the two man team that our painting company sent over to do the actual, hands on work and also endure the smell of drying paint. Just as I am certain that I'll be writing the check when it's all said and done.
There was something both sad and cathartic about this particular process. I had no idea that moving all the clutter from the top of my desk and clearing off piles of stuff would be so emotionally fraught. It dawned on me that this was yet another signpost of change and transition.
The office space looks so clean and Spartan right now. Right at this moment. I'm hesitant to start bringing stuff back in which will have the unwanted effect of cluttering up the room. For another 25 years.
The bare white walls are so minimalist right now. Like an austere NYC art gallery. I'm guessing this might be just the motivation I've needed to purge about 80% of the old gear, modifiers, old work, etc. that this room has been housing; like a mini-museum with metastasizing clutter syndrome.
Drop by. Maybe I can persuade you to leave with a small parting gift. A C-Stand anyone? How about a couple hundred feet of heavy duty extension cable. Some nice, well used frames? Who needs some long rolls of white seamless background paper? We'll pay you to take it....
Since we rehabbed and re-painted the guest bathroom I can now
invite friends over for dinner without having to apologize for the
tattered condition we once experienced in this one. Now it seems
like a wonderfully neat place in which to wash one's hands.
The painters covered every piece of gear and furniture with plastic.
If I had done the job I would have convinced myself that I would
never drip paint. And then I'd have spent a few days trying to clean up the mess
followed by months of rationalizing how artistic it is to have white speckles
applied randomly around the room.
A Nanlite LED spotlight shrouded for protection.
And I may be lazy enough to leave it just l like this and to tell everyone
that it's an expression of modern decor. I'm sure that will go over well.
