So I am enjoying a wonderful summer filled with baby girl giggles (and tantrums), friends, swimming, and, glory be, free time!
I made a short list of things that I wanted to accomplish over the summer. On that list was painting my desk.
This desk was a Goodwill find that we had spray painted black. It worked for awhile, but since we didn't put any clear coat on it, the paint was flaking and was crying out for a new color. Easy peasy, right?
Wrong.
Well, the first part was all fun and games. Went shopping at Lowes (I am terribly good at shopping). We picked up the big can of primer because, of course, I'll just be painting LOADS of other things so it will be worth it, a pretty shade of light blue (2 GALLONS- whatever possessed us to buy that much is beyond me), a fancy paintbrush (well researched online after reading a half dozen articles on how to properly paint furniture), and sandpaper.
I headed home from our trip giddy with excitement and eager to start painting that evening after Miss C retired.
As I opened the can of primer and dipped my paintbrush in, visions of doing this as a fun job on the side danced through my head. I had read in a couple of articles how people just "lost themselves in it" and found themselves painting away at 3 in the morning just to see what a certain shade looked like. Jason and I could scour garage sales and, heck, bulk trash day, and come home with sad, lonely items just hoping for a second chance. And then with a flick of my paintbrush I'd transform them into gorgeous shabby chic furniture that I could upload onto my fabulous website.
2 minutes in, I realized this wasn't for me. Why did time seem to stand still when I was doing this? Why couldn't I stop thinking about all the other enjoyable things I could be doing? Why did I just sit on the paint can lid? (yes, that happened).
I ended up rushing through 2 coats of primer, cursing my ambition with each stroke, and was relieved when that step was complete. It looked a bit sloppy, and when Jason came back into the bedroom after checking it out he was oddly silent, but who cares what the bottom layer looks like anyway, you just cover it all up with paint.
Um... apparently, it matters A LOT. As I painted the desk the "pretty shade of light blue", it became evident that every line and drip was going to show through. Dang it, dang it, dang it! It also became evident that my shade of blue was so light it looked like an odd shade of white. Surely, after two coats? No, nothing. Wonderful.
Back to the paint section we went, I couldn't believe that I would have to paint that stupid desk TWO MORE TIMES when I had come to the conclusion that if I live to never see another paintbrush again, I'd die a happy woman.
Well, the desk is done. Sitting in our living room ready for crafts and grading. No longer will I place my drinks on the floor only to knock them over a few minutes later. Jason, bless his heart, painted all the clear coat on for me. We were supposed to do it together, but I handily executed an escape after murmuring about how good he was at painting.
So I'm sorry to break everyone's hearts, but I will NOT be opening a furniture painting business any time soon.
Just two last things
1. If you come over to my house, please do not look too closely at the desk. It looks great... from afar.
2. If you need a big can of primer or
Omg, I did this exact same thing once! To an old desk! And I haven't painted a single piece of furniture since. ;) (It looks great, though!)
ReplyDeleteOh, whyyy didn't you write a blog post about this and forewarn me?! ;) Great may be a strong adjective to use, but thanks!
Delete