Paint In My Hair
Ah, painting. Stef and I laid down two coats of primer on the walls of our living/dining room today and that’s all we got done. Stef was up there early, but I didn’t get there until after noon because of my shrink appointment. We still have the whole stairway and upstairs hallway and den to prime and then we have to paint it all. We’re supposed to have some more hands on hand tomorrow, so that should help. I’m still worried, though. This is taking a lot more effort than I thought it would.
I’m happy, though, to have learned that the Red Sox pulled off another win tonight after what sounded like it was going to be a disaster. As Stef and I were pulling up to Chili’s in Lowell for dinner with Anisa, Bill, and one of Anisa’s old college friends, we had the radio on and it was the top of the second, or something like that, and the shit was hitting the fan. I got frustrated and spoke about how every time I pay attention to a game they start to lose. I turned it off just after hearing that someone on the other team hit a grand slam.
I was probably also still just a little frustrated about the fact that there was paint in my hair and still clinging to the hair on my legs. Now I guess I understand why you don’t paint in shorts. That’s what painter’s pants are for, right?
Anyway, we’ve got a long day of painting ahead of us tomorrow. I’m kind of enjoying it, but I’ll be much happier when it’s done. I’m kind of happy now because we went and saw Spider-Man 2 after dinner (my second time and I loved it just as much), but I’ll still be happier when painting is done.