Open Letter to the Paint Lady at Home Depot

"Really Paint Lady?!" That's what I am going to say to you, "Really?!" I'm going to bring both cans of Behr "SUPER PREMIUM ULTIMATE GOOD SHIT" paint to the counter, put them in front of you and say "REALLY?!".

The latest chapter of my struggles with interior painting comes courtesy of our builder using crappy watered down paint for the walls of our home. Every time you brush up against them, you smudge, or stain, or scuff... whatever. So Heather and I decide to go and buy some nice paint and re-do the walls of the master bedroom. It's been over a year since my last disaster laden attempt at painting so my tolerance level was at an all time high. "This won't be as bad as all the other times" I thought. Oh how naive I was.

To start our project, we picked a color relatively close to the current walls. As always, I got my army of tools ready - rollers, paint brushes, ladder, edgers, buckets, trays, tray liners.. if it's made to make painting less of a pain, I've got it in the garage. Now it was time to get the paint. It was time to invite my enemy into my home. Off to Home Depot.

If you haven't purchased paint for a while, you should know it's become something of a science. You pick your color swatch and take it to the Paint Lady. She gets your base coat - in this case we went with Behr Eggshell - and she puts it under the color dispenser. Then she scans the bar code on the back so the computer can put exactly the right amount of paint into the mixture. It's then shaken, a label is put on top, and away we go. I ordered 1 can since we're doing 1 room. Crucial error number 1.

We go home and have a relatively quick easy first coat. At this point I really think the room looks great. Future historians will no doubt label this as crucial error number 2. I'm ecstatic that we went with the good paint and it seems that, for once, I have defeated interior painting.

Rob - 1; Interior Painting - 5, I'm gaining on you...

Then a small voice echos out of the abyss - "I think we need another coat". I turn in horror to stare at Heather. Surely she didn't say that. Doesn't she remember all the other paint projects? Doesn't she know my record against this mundane household chore? "It looks really good, but I'd feel better if we put a second coat on it..."

I could only stare at my paint stained hands... "NOOOOOOOO!!" A quick glance at the can shows we don't have enough for a second coat, so it's back to the dragon's lair... the paint counter at Home Depot. I handed the Paint Lady the SAME SWATCH, and she grabbed a second can of the SAME PAINT. I watched her scan it, shake it, label it, and hand it to me. I got back in the car and headed home feeling good. Looking back I imagine it's much the same feeling that a rabbit has as he's crossing a dark highway at 2 a.m. I'm hopping along, hopping along, WHAM - some crazy tool in a Ford Festiva who's texting while eating Cheetos never even looked up.

Once I get back home Heather and I start up again. I say "the edges look good, let's just put another coat on the middle of the walls so we can be sure they're evened out." (Hopping along, hopping along...) I start rolling the high parts and she follows along getting the lower parts. We get a call from my parents who are watching Braeden. "Do you want to come over for dinner when you're done?" "Sure" we say, "This is going pretty well so we'll be over around 5:30." (Hopping along, hopping along...)

We finish around 4:45 or so and I start putting switch covers back on while Heather gets cleaned up. She comes back out and says "It looks lighter doesn't it?" (Hopping along, hopping... what's that sound?) I say "Yeah, but look around the edge, you can see how it dries darker. It's just the second coat since it's still a little damp." (Hopping along, sniffing the air, what is that noise?) "Oh, ok, do you want to take a quick shower and we can head out?" "Yep" I reply.

We enjoyed dinner, part of a movie, and a nice evening with my family and didn't get back to the house until around 8:45. I took a few minutes to put Braeden to bed and then headed to the bedroom to start moving furniture back in. Heather was standing in the middle of the room admiring our work. (Hopping along...) "Is there any chance it's still wet?" she asks. (Hopping along - Oh look a light...) "What do you mean" I say, "Nope it should be dry by now." I look up and see the same dark outline as before around each corner, each door, each trim piece... (Hopping along - WHAAAAAMMMM!) Same paint, same swatch, same Paint Lady, different COLORS... You win again Interior Painting.

So at 9 p.m. we start again. Paint cans are opened, brushes pulled back out, ladders unfolded... But it was all downhill from there. First a wet paint tray rips a small hole in a trash bag, then a ladder leg mysteriously gets paint on it and goes unseen until it leaves a trail along the carpet. Paint stains trim, hammers hit fingers - even now the night has become a blur. Where did I go wrong? Was it cutting corners with the good paint? Should I have purchased 2 cans at the same time? Would it have mattered? Or was this predestined to be yet another disaster paint job? I'll never know. But as I lay on the highway watching the Ford Festiva drive away, one thought remains... Some day Paint Lady, Someday... the roles will be reversed and I will stand victorious while you cry over a two-toned bedroom and wonder how I ever got the best of you.

Rob Carlton -