Mr. Troutbend went to town today for groceries and I decided to get around to painting the folding doors on one of the closets at the Brown Palace.

(this is the view of it I would have where I am now sitting if it wasn't pitch black outside)


They are the kind that fold back and have louvers on the top. Of course, the moment I made the decision to do some painting I wanted to dive right in, and maybe get it done before Mr. Tbend got home because he doesn't approve of the way I hold the paintbrush or prepare the surface or just about anything I do with regard to painting the house. Usually it is exactly like Tom Sawyer painting the fence and all I have to do is start a project and Mr. Tbend will take it over.

I kept telling myself to change clothes, because you know that no matter how careful you are, you are going to get paint on them somewhere.

But the project was calling! I came close to getting started in some good slacks with the thought that at some point I would go change, but I forced myself to take the time to change clothes and shoes and put down drop cloths. That's the other thing we think we don't need to do until we accidentally drop the thing of paint or a big sloppy drop from the brush hits the carpet.

I did it all, and every precaution was worth it. He got back from town before I was done - time flew at my end - and he had the sense to leave without offering any advice or assistance, even although I hinted I could use a smaller brush to get into the cracks.

I was painting a cream color over white, so there wasn't much contrast and the cream dried closer to white than cream, so now it looks perky and clean, and a second coat would be a waste of time. I went and looked at it after dark with the ceiling fixture on, and it looked okay, so good enough for me.