I got so excited, yesterday, when The Firefighter told me he was going to go paint at naptime. I laid down with The Bun, happily imagining that my kitchen, after 6 MONTHS 1/2 painted, would finally be finished.
I should have known better but y'all know I'm a glass half full kinda gal.
I had fallen asleep trying to get The Bun to do the same (I think the people who say, "I'll sleep when I'm dead" don't have young children) and I woke up a short time later to a really strong smell of paint. Waaayyyy too strong to be the special low VOC paint we spent a fortune on for the kitchen. I mean that paint cost about the same as this pair of Betsey Johnson pumps. Personally, I'd rather have had the shoes. At least the heels would have made me feel sexy. Or maybe they would have made me feel like a stripper. Whatever. Details.
I come out of our room, into the kitchen, and find The Firefighter using my FAVORITE Limited Edition, $10 a bottle, can't get anymore - 'cuz it's discontinued, OPI nail polish to PAINT STRIPES on his U.S.A.R. carabiners. CARABINERS. I ask The Firefighter, what the hell does he think he's doing. He tells me that he's marking his carabiners. I then ask him why he couldn't use a SHARPIE and his initials - LIKE A NORMAL PERSON. His response? Oh, he didn't think of that.
Can't live with them....can't kill 'em.
Happy Monday, y'all!