Because we moved into a new house, I thought I needed to gussy up the place and make it home. I thought that it would be a good idea to dip all of our old furniture in gold and roll it in glitter to give it a sparkly gilded look that made a statement. I was really hoping that statement would be "Donald Trump threw up on my walls."
We couldn't afford to rent out Trump to pimp our house, so I had to settle for cans of non-gold paint from Lowe's. I had high hopes for the painting of furniture. Many people do it for a living. How hard can it be? I found out that it's much like giving birth to furniture. It's filled with hours of tedium and pain and sweating and weird smells. When you're done, you have an odd creature with a funky coating and you're not sure if that's what it's supposed to look like.
The whole process sucked and I realized about halfway thought that I suck at painting furniture. Add that to the list of things at which I do not excel in the least. I want to be good at it. I want to like it. But I suuuuuuck at making a piece worthy of anything other than Disaster DIY: Just Stop Already. Both pieces I've attempted have been complete clusters and I wished halfway through that they would spontaneously combust or get struck by lightning or fall off a 16 story building or step in front of an 18-wheeler hauling cinder blocks. Since they didn't (so selfish), I had to resign myself to labeling them what I HATE in the design world (as if I were an expert in textiles): Shabby Chic. Shabby Chic is just a euphemism for "I gave up about halfway through" and "My best can't hack it" and "I enjoy taking decent pieces of furniture and turning them into lazy works of craftsmanship."
At one point after applying the 538th coat of primer and paint and shellac and frosting and strawberry glaze, I was washing up to do something other than paint. Sadie left a french toast stick on the counter then Ben left a bite of that french toast stick and who am I not to enjoy leftovers twice removed? I want to play that game. I grabbed the last bite and realized after I swallowed that I think I had a wad of paint on my finger that was no longer on my finger. Pretty sure I ate the paint. If you're going to eat paint, I guess it's better to eat latex/water-based rather than oil-based paint.
We're now in the polycrylic stage of finishing the coffee and side tables. Next we'll be in the mummifying my brain process so I will be unable to paint two more side tables even though I already have visions of them in my head. One is Grass Stain Green and the other is Primrose Yellow. I'm pretty sure Chris has different colors in mind like I've Hidden the Lowe's Card and Please Stop Making Projects That Kill My Free Time. The kids are old enough to not want to spend time with us so how else will I spend my free time other than money pit pet projects? Exactly.