black paint

I started painting the dressing room today. I painted the bedroom about two years ago and paused there reasoning that I wanted to decide if the two rooms should match. I never gave serious consideration to a second color scheme and now in retrospect I think I needed time less for deciding and more for motivating. I sat for a boudoir shoot in that time and yesterday I lit a small bonfire under my own butt, using for kindling the effort to find a photographer, to labor to raise funds for the shoot, to decide on clothes and pose in and out of them, to select prints, and even to buy a boudoir in which to house the boudoir photos. I don't know how much more time it might take for the space to achieve perfection in an absolute sense, but with that much fuel I think I can metabolize a well-intentioned room before needing to fetch wood again.

I started small, with an accent wall. I already had the paint on hand, and all the equipment. This morning a neighbor invited me to the dog park. I planned on taking the dogs out for a walk before starting, to tire them out and afford me a peace of mind that I'd tended everything that needed tending, so her suggestion was an upgrade. Her initial text implied a short visit, but we stayed there talking for nearly two hours. She joked she was a distraction, but I insisted she helped get me moving on the first part of the spell. Once started the job went quick, and with fewer issues than I imagined over two years of consternation. Zero, in fact, and no spills. The only thing worse than two giant paint bubbles is one stray drop of black paint, the thought of which helped steady my hand.

I applied a first coat early in the afternoon then went out for a walk with the dogs around the boro. A second coat went on quick afterwards, and I finished cleaning up as the sun was setting. I ate leftover curry and read a chapter of Dubliners, The Boarding House, then headed over to the firehouse for trivia, which was more crowded than it has been, and which we lost considerably.