About a month ago I was helping my aunt edge my cousin’s bathroom, and I thought to myself, “I could do this. What am I so afraid of?”
My thoughts are grammatically incorrect. I apologize.
I guess I haven’t necessarily been afraid of painting… but I did feel like it was a project that I was reluctant to bite off alone. When I painted my bathroom in my old apartment, it required taking down old wallpaper. And that did sort of scare me. So when I say “I painted my bathroom…” it actually went like this:
I picked out the paint. I purchased the paint.
Mom and Dad drove down here.
We took a few trips to the hardware store.
Mom and I helped spray stuff on the wall.
Dad took down the old wallpaper.
Dad painted the bathroom.
Mom and I talked in the living room.
I baked Dad a cake.
But my apartment now is a clean slate. Bright white walls. No wallpaper in sight.
So what was there
to be afraid of of which to be afraid? Memorial Day weekend. Me. My guest bathroom. Paint.
I figured picking out the paint color would be the hardest part. I already had towels and a rug in the bathroom, both of which were purple, and I wanted to still be able to use those. I thought I would go with a safe “gray” (or “grey,” if you prefer), but when I brought paint chips home, I realized for the first time that the tile was an interesting brownish that turned sort of pink when I brought the gray near it. So no gray.
My mom suggested green, and I’m thinking she probably had a subtle, light green in mind. But anyone who knows me knows that I don’t go for light and subtle. So I finally fell in love with a sage color and wondered just how dark I could go.
I bought two sample cans of almost the same color and brought them home to test. I ended up going with the darker of the two (the top one) because the lighter one dried more of a “mint” green than I wanted. That picture doesn’t really do either of the colors justice.
I hesitated before buying the paint. What if it was too dark? What if no one liked it? What if I was making a huge mistake? There’s no natural light in the bathroom — should I go with a lighter color? Will the room look super small?
Then I realized… who cares? I liked the color. I didn’t need a quorum to make this decision. I was painting the bathroom. Me. All by myself. And I could paint it whatever the heck color I wanted. And if I didn’t like it? Guess what? I could buy another gallon of paint and paint it the next weekend.
Which leads me to my musing as I painted my one coat of primer (clearly the most unsatisfying thing anyone could do in a morning. I probably won’t do that again) and my two coats of paint over the weekend.
Tom Petty’s greatest hits were blaring in the guest room, and “The Waiting” was on when I began my musing. I’m sure the song is about sex or drugs, but the refrain got stuck in my head and I started thinking about “the waiting is the hardest part.”
I’m at a time in my life now where I’d like to think I’m waiting for the next thing. Waiting for my knight in shining armor. Waiting to become a famous Catholic speaker or writer. Waiting for what’s next in life. I love my life, but I’d like to think something is going to be different in the next five years.
But then I thought about the dangers of living that way — waiting for the next thing to happen. It seems as if it would be impossible to be happy. Sure, maybe life will be different in five years. But maybe it won’t be. Maybe I’ll be sitting in this chair in my sunny living room blogging.
I’ll at least have a pretty bathroom.
A bathroom I painted all by myself.
So forget waiting. I’m going to start doing.
What if “he” never comes? Will I have to be “that single girl” for the rest of my life? Only if I choose to be identified by the lack of wedding ring on my finger. And I’m not willing to do that. Heck, according to married people, single life is carefree! So why don’t I act like it?
Why don’t I do crazy things like paint my bathroom?
I’m ridiculously happy with the bathroom. I love the color (although I’m not sure its true color comes out in pictures). And I love how satisfying it was — to go from a completely white bathroom to a warm, “misted fern” one. And it was so gratifying to know that I did it all myself. I know it sounds pretty silly, since I’m a grown woman and should probably be able to paint a wall. But just let me enjoy my success for a little while.
I didn’t even tape! And, if I do say so myself, I did a pretty good job free-handing it. I like a challenge.
Okay, maybe not always:
I was very happy with how the paint matched both the tile and the purple. I settled on a pretty white shower curtain from World Market- a rarity for me (“plain white” usually means “borrrring” in my book), but I glad I did.
Okay, ready for the final reveal? Unfortunately, I can’t get a picture of the whole bathroom, but one wall will have to do.
Just turn your head a little.
I’m ready to paint the whole apartment now. If that little room gave me so much satisfaction, why wait?