If You Give a Woman a House Project During a Pandemic

The other evening I ended up on my roof. This wasn't because I was trying to escape my family members. Well, not exactly. No, I was on my roof because I made one decision: I chose to paint my front door.

It started so simply -- at least, after the deliberation between 30 paint chips, it started simply. I settled on a shade called Triumph Blue, bought a quart, laid down a drop cloth, taped off the doorknob and hardware, and then got to work. Two coats later, I stood on my front porch, head cocked to the side, uncertain. The new color wasn't terrible, but I wasn't yet convinced that Triumph Blue was entirely triumphant. Maybe it would be better titled Mildly Victorious Blue, or Perhaps Not Entirely a Failure Blue.

Something was throwing me off. Was it the sudden change after 14 years of looking at a classically red door? Was it the clash of the green painter's tape? Was the blue too bold? Too bright? Too light? Too something I couldn't put my finger on?

In this spirit of deep introspection, that's when I noticed our shutters. They were supposed to be black, but years of exposure to the elements had faded them to a washed-out gray. Maybe the contrast was off-kilter. Maybe the blue door would look better if the shutters were actually black, I mused.

That's how I ended up removing eighteen shutters from my house to spray paint them black. It's also how I ended up scrubbing the siding on my front porch because, without shutters, you discover a decade and a half's worth of filth. (And a wasp's nest, but that's another story involving a can of Raid and bad aim.) And that's when I noticed that the bench on our front porch, after enduring the removal of gunk and debris from the siding, also needed a fresh coat of paint.

Essentially, that's the full tale of how painting my front door led me to also paint a bench and eighteen shutters, wash my porch siding, kill a colony of wasps, and ultimately, end up on my roof. (Well, minus the part when I accidentally drove my car over one of the painted shutters that I didn't see laid on my driveway, had to Super Glue the cracked section of the shutter, and then accidentally glued my thumb and index finger together so I thought I'd live the rest of my life unintentionally flashing an "OK" signal to everyone I encountered.)

In other words, I'm relatively convinced that this project went as well as any house project could possibly go during 2020.

Disclaimer 1: Let me tell you, people: the newly-painted black shutters look terrific.

Disclaimer 2: The blue door is growing on me day by day. Triumph! (Perhaps this might also be due to the fact that I don't have any energy to repeat this process.)

Disclaimer 3: As you might have guessed, given my ability to type freely enough to compose this post, my fingers have been released from the snare of Super Glue.

Disclaimer 4: Upon further reflection, hiding from my family on my roof isn't actually a bad idea. I'm tucking this realization away.

Disclaimer 5: I might also paint a room. Please pray for me.

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