white paint

I painted the dressing room ceiling this morning. I wanted to skip it but I couldn't shake the thought that I'd finish the room then feel guilty regret for disregarding a prominent detail after having put in so much effort elsewhere. For a moment I thought what I was applying was indistinguishable from what I was covering, which didn't help support the decision to start. Once I rolled a larger section I could see more of a difference, validation at last.

Plus a little time for setup, the job only took about an hour and a half, less than I spent waffling on whether or not to do it. I washed up then spent another hour and a half walking around the boro with the dogs, a colorful break from my monochromatic palette.

Recharged and energized, I painted the walls. I thought the ceiling would be the hardest part so after the quick work this morning I assumed the walls would be easy. They wound up taking six hours and two coats to complete. With three doors, two windows, and one radiator I think I spent most of the time cutting around the frames. I used the same roller from earlier, which despite having been rung out after finishing the ceiling was saturated barely one wall in. That made for more drips and more time spent cleaning them, too. I was hungry and tired by the end, but entertained and egged on by dunking on Thoreau in my head. I washed up again then made a fresh pot of rice, which I ate with the last of the chickpea curry.