8 reasons why you shouldn’t hire me to paint a room. And 1 reason why you should.
8 reasons why you shouldn’t hire me to paint a room.
1. I will spackle with my finger.
2. I paint over the cobwebs and dust.
3. I have no idea what I’m doing.
4. I can’t reach the ceiling.
5. Because I’ll sleep in the kitchen.
6. Because afterwards the walls look like shit.
7. I get paint everywhere.
8. I was going to throw out these pants anyways.
And 1 reason why you should.
I’ll do it in my underwear.
I’ve moved everything out of my apartment. I only had a few boxes that I’d brought over from my mom’s place where I’ve been storing my life, but I’m now down to just my two backpacks. I promised Heather that I’d paint her room, and four coats of matte white later, it kind of looks OK. She’s moving soon, which is probably a good thing because, as my sister told me yesterday, “it felt like your apartment was going to cave in.” Our apartment leans. A lot. And it’s only gotten worse since I lived here last. Every time I step out of the shower I feel like I’m going to fall over. The toilet wobbles. When I cook I have to move everything towards the front of the pan because all of the oil will pool there. It leans. A lot. Since she’ll be moving, when I leave on Monday, it will probably be the last time I leave this apartment. And probably the last time I live in Roscoe Village. And so I often think I’m never going to go to this Whole Foods again. The Starbucks lady will never have a white mocha waiting for me before I even order again. I’ll never watch the brown line go past my window again.