“Home improvement” for me, right now, is largely not about making it better. It’s mostly about keeping the damn place standing. A holding action against entropy. That’s just how it is. (I assume this is a temporary situation. Sooner or later I’ll get my shit together and putter around the homestead at a leisurely pace indulging in the improvement instead of maintenance of the house. One can hope. Either that or I’ll retire and spend my days fishing… which seems like a good solution to a decrepit house.)
On the other hand, Mrs. Curmudgeon gets a vote too and ladies seem to be really attached to nice bathrooms. So I promised to repaint the bathroom ceiling. (It needed to be done.)
I’ve never painted a ceiling when the walls and stuff are already done. It seems like a bad idea; a fine opportunity to create a disaster. Isn’t there a Charlie Chaplin movie about this very idea?
It’s freaking me out. I’m painting like a single drop on the already nicely painted (several years ago) walls will cause a bomb to go off.
For me, it’s the paint version of the sword of Damocles. Wish me luck.