How in the world did I decide on a paint that clashes with the furniture? What was I thinking? So. Here I am. Going ahead with it anyway and just hoping some accessories and pillows and curtains will fix it.
But, guess what I hate more than painting? What I hate more than ANYTHING.
I hate barf.
And my son has a stomach virus and is barfing. And I'm all in a tizzy. While I hate barf, it isn't the barf itself that starts me freaking out. It is the FEAR. The fear that I may catch the virus. The fear that I may have to do the barfing myself. That is what sends me over the edge. The whole violent, unexpectedness of it all doesn't help either.
In summary: John is not here. One kid is down with the barf bug. The house is torn to shreds and half-way painted. Sometimes I wish I just had a fast forward button.