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.