Trapped In The Closet

Nothing covers up past sins like a fresh coat of paint. So keeping that in mind we decided the first step of converting the spare bedroom into a nursery was some paint. After all, we really didn't want any visiting grand parents seeing signs of the time we had the pygmy goats and the mini-trampoline in there. Let alone the time with the vat of jello....

So first up on the painting list was the closet. It looked like it hadn't been painted since before I was born. Now keep in mind our house was built back in the 1920's when people thought smaller. Closets in a house that old are pretty rare, and the ones that do exist are tiny. We were lucky enough to have closets, but they're so small we'll only be able to lock one misbehaving kid in them at a time even when they're toddlers.

Large man + small closet = prescription for teh funny

I went in wearing a clean black t-shirt. I came out dressed in white. Every time I turned to paint one wall I brushed against another freshly painted wall. The best comedy of all was when I did the ceiling. I had to resort to a regular roller and a full body stretch in order to get paint up there. About halfway thru the paint covered pad came off the roller and fell straight down. Into my upturned face. I looked like an actor in one of the old 'black face' minstrel shows, except the paint was white.

I knew it was bad when The Mrs. pitied me instead of laughing. Pity for funny but embarassing is very rare from her. The pity didn't last though. Fortunately, pregnancy has slowed her enough that she couldn't get photographic proof before I got rid of most of the evidence.