I spent a week with my son and his family in North Platte, Nebraska last week. While there, I showed my Daughter In Law photos of something and she noticed the new colors of my walls.
She loved the colors and I promised that after I got home I would send her the colors.
Well, I did. I got out my Sherwin-Williams color chart and sent all the numbers and names of the paint in my hall, living room and dinning room - the part below the chair rail - and the bathroom.
I did not, however; send her the name of the color of the dinning room above the chair rail, a bright red enamel.
She mentioned it to me, she really wanted her dinning room that color, so not having a color chart for that color - I had painted that part myself 3 or 4 years ago - I went out to my garage and got out the extra gallon of paint (there is a reason for the extra gallon, but we won't go into that now). There is a color chart and numbers on the lid of the gallon.
Doesn't this sound like something you would do. It doesn't sound troublesome. Not a big deal, right?
Well, well. The chart was on the lid, as I said. The light from the bedroom window caused a glare and sitting here trying to send an e-mail, with both hands on the keyboard, well, I needed to turn the can over so I could see the lid.
I tried propping the can on my mouse so that I could see it better, but it rolled off. So, I typed what I could remember and tipped the can again to see the next set of numbers.
All of a sudden the lid just blooped off. Can you see the problem with this?! A flood of red swooped out of the can, across the year calendar and onto the desk. This is red, gloss enamel, something like the nail polish OPI makes, that I love to paint my nails with.
And my nails were painted with this.
I had both hands in it, trying to get it back into the can.
Realizing I needed more than hands and being the sort of Chic that always remains in control in the face of adversity, also picturing EC's face when he saw the new color of his Oak desk, I ran for the Bounty.
I feel I should mention, I did not become hysterical. I just didn't want the stuff to puddle on the carpet. I hate the carpet, but a puddle of red in the middle of it would not make me hate it any less.
When I returned, the pool was creeping towards the edge of the desk, a pool bigger than a dinner plate, and yes, it was on my mouse by now and under my keyboard. This is starting to look very bad.
I had paint all over my hands so getting the Bounty package open was frantic. Did that and rolled off a lot of paper. I started to wipe, there was so much that soaking it up was out of the question. So I raked it into EC's trash can. I could deal with cleaning that up later.
Mercy! It was on the cover of EC's address book, too!
Paper towels in hand and EC's trash can under the edge of the desk, I started to wipe an encourage all that crimson in the direction of the can. There was so much paint, the bottom of the can was covered. Dear, Dear! I used half the roll of towels, my calendar/blotter was a giant smear of red and the grain of the oak was soaking up the red.
EC would definitely notice, I couldn't throw away the calendar, my life is written on it. Phone numbers, birthdays, e-mail addresses, events - - - and speaking of events - EC and I are supposed to be at the Historic Arkansas Museum for our friend Jim's Grand Opening. (His wonderful collection of Petite Point Purses and other Petite Point object's of art were going on display in an hour and a half and my hands up to my elbows were covered in red.
(Small wonders - a blessing actually - my ring was at the jewelers having the set tightened and my other rings were in the jewelery cleaner) Now, wouldn't that have been pretty!
Oh!, for Pete's sake! It is on the rug. It's just a little line of red. Quick, a paper towel. Oh, Great! Now it's a smear eight inches long. Will this never end. Ah yes, the scissors. Surly I can cut the worst of this away and none will be the wiser. Yes, yes, this works. Good Grief! there's another blop the size of a nickle. From where is this stuff coming? Lesson learned, don't use the paper towels, go straight for the scissors. Wonderful! That worked great. A little dog fur and no one will ever notice.
Back to the desk top, I rubbed and rubbed, little scratches and pecks are now nicely filled in with red. I won't come out.
I've decided that we will just have to live with it and with the blotter over it, who will be the wiser.
EC ran by the Jewelers on his way home from the Golf Shop and picked up my ring, we were and hour late to Jim's opening, but I had to get the paint off my hands. August will forever be red, I really need this page of the blotter, I can still read through the smear.
Of course, nothing like this has ever happened to you - Right?
Just another day.
It's these little, unavoidable trama's that make life sweet and really make for funny stories to share with friends. None of this killed me, no one yelled, and a little red isn't so bad.
We'll talk later,
Carol Ann, Quilter/Paint Remover