I’m not sure why they call them the “lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer” — Thank you Nat King Cole, Charles Tobias and Hans Carste! — when the only time they feel lazy and hazy is when it’s 111 (Yeah, we love you, Humidex.) outside and you’re living your day prostrate, mainlining popsicles. The rest of the time, they feel just plain crazy.
We won’t even talk about the heatwaves, droughts, fires, mudslides, floods, and the pain in our collective butt that is Mama Global-Freaking-Warming Weather. We’re all doing the Neutron Dance, baby.
No, we won’t talk about that.
But let’s take a moment to give a shout out to emergency workers, firefighters, EMS, Search and Rescue…, civilian and military alike, standing on the front line just doing what they consider to be their jobs, and which I consider to be rocking some serious sauce of awesome.
This is what I have been doing ~
In the hottest July on record, I decided it was time to redo the stairs and landing and upper hall which, oh yeah, are painted floors. It was time. Seriously. It was probably past time. Mr. G, honey was conscripted to sand. Patch. And sand. Nope. He had no choice. None. Then all the swiffing, tacky cloth-ing, painting, and repeat was done by me; followed by sealing, sealing, sealing. Thrown in there somewhere was a gazillion trips to the various depots of home.
This was a tricky project because, contrary to popular belief, I am not a Jetson. I do not have a Jet Pack. I and Mr. G, honey and the Golden Digger have to get to the second floor in the usual way — up the stairs, along the landing, and down the hall. So, it was up before the chickens — What time do they get up anyway? — suck back some liquid breakfast, announce for the last time that You now have five minutes to get anything you need from the second floor until 10 o’clock this evening. I’m serious! And don’t forget your socks!!
I will say that it was miles easier than the last time I did this. Because the last time I did this, I painted the stairs and risers different colors and the floors were painted as if they had carpets on them. I know. I’ll wait for you to finish processing that and taking a moment for an eye roll. This time, I was practically demure. One color throughout. Let me just say that Lowe’s did a great job of taking a paint can of discontinued paint from the Ice Age — in just the right shade of blue; not the blue of sea glass, not Mr. Blandings Builds His Dream House blue; but the blue of a quart of wild blueberries — and replicating the contents just like we were aboard the Starship Enterprise. Thank you, Lowe’s.
You cannot look at this blog and not know that I’m passionate about color. I won’t apologize. I rationalize this by saying it’s because I live in the Great White North, and it can be darksome and dreary eleventy-hundred months of the year. But I’m pretty sure that if I lived in There’s No Place Like Home, Kansas, I’d still be throwing down some eye-popping color. Color ‘R Us.
Project is done. Baseboards next. In a restful, neutral white. Not duck egg white; not Mr. Blandings Builds His Dream House white, but the white of…
Lastly, some sort of runner treatment.
Recap of Project:
I only stepped in fresh paint four times the first day — at which time I considered using my own foot as a stencil — and twice the second day, and none after that. This is why I’m not allowed to use a sander, or putty knife, or anything metal, or that conducts electricity. I’m just kidding.
Hey, hey, hey.
Been doing any projects lately?