Why I don’t like painting houses

by Cellobella on Monday, May 26, 2008 · 5 comments

Don’t get me wrong – I’m up for helping out my brother when he needs me so I went round to his house on Sunday to see how he was going with tarting up his house – which he is renting out while he lives in Melbourne… on the way there…

Port Beach

Sunday afternoon and all the cargo liners head out to sea…

Before we began

The aim was to paint an undercoat over the green paint in the kitchen.

The paint mixers

Of course first we had to mix the paint and luckily the earlier gardening provided a good stirrer.

Nearly finished

Dippity fills in the last little bit of the undercoat.

Interestingly my brother said at one stage: “I feel as if I’m painting out part of my soul..” He’d painted the wall green when he’d first moved in. Still it’ll keep the tenants happy.

Dippity had a great time. My brother’s walls got painted. I wore gloves, an apron, took my shoes off and rolled my jeans up but still managed to get green paint on the underside of my foot which ended up staining my ugg boots.

Not. Happy. Jan.

(Damn… did I just admit to wearing ugg boots out of the house?!)

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