I decided yesterday while sitting in my front room that the beat up light oak trim and dijon mustard walls were depleting my life force and I MUST PAINT AT ONCE. This is how I operate, no planning or discussing or mulling things over, and not just with painting.

Which is why I have the rose from the cover of American Beauty permanently on my right shoulder blade.

I loaded Troy up and we headed off to the Ho Depot (typo, I’m leaving it) to gather our supplies.  I say “our” supplies like Troy was going to help.  (All he did once I started painting later was run into the wall TWICE and ruin two separate shirts).  I decided to buy one of those five gallon things of paint because there is nothing I hate more than running out of paint before the walls are complete.  I only bought a quart of semi-gloss for the trim because I have never painted trim before and I had no idea what it would look like.  I figured I could start behind the sofa and if I hated it, well, we would never be able to move the sofa away from that wall.

While at the mixing counter, I showed the girl what color I needed and silently crossed my finger she wouldn’t jack it all up.  She was maybe 18, she had a fucking Jonas Brothers pin on her orange apron for god’s sake.  I noticed Troy slip down the next aisle and I asked her to excuse me and stepped back from the counter and called his name.

She was tapping into her computer and snapped her gum and was all, “Ma’am, your son is right behind you”.

I turned and there was a boy about five? six? (omg, there really are kids everywhere these days) and when I saw him I said (kind of in a teasing way), “That’s not my son…” which totally made the kid laugh.

I saw Troy heading back to the paint counter and I turned back to the girl child that was helping me.

And then, THEN, she was all, “Oh, is that your grandson?”

I waited until she was done mixing up my five gallon bucket of Eggshell paint in Powdered Snow, said thank you, refrained from performing the Five Finger Death Punch on that little bitch faced Jonas Brothers groupie, went home, painted and then applied anti-aging cream liberally.

Nothing good ever happens to me at the Ho Depot, man. Nothing.