The Defiance of Painting

I loathe painting. I find it tedious, monotonous, and boring. For the past three weeks, though, I’ve been painting. My house, that is. My brain is so lopsided to the left, the thought of painting for the purpose of art actually hurts.

Why, you might ask, have I been painting when the sheer thought of said activity makes me need alcohol? Because we bought a 1970’s chic ranch with avocado walls, and the owners nixed my $1500 paint allowance. Bastards. The house is a great fit for our fur family, the price is right, and the yard makes me long for Fall foliage and fire pits. But the walls have to go. I’ve watched enough Fixer Upper to know that “avocado” isn’t in Jo’s color palette.

We did not buy a McMansion, promise, but 2200 square feet of avocado is a shit ton of wall to paint! Needless to say, I’ve made 13 trips to Lowe’s (no joke, I counted); bought and tested three sample paints (twice, actually…the same paint…don’t ask); and run out of painter’s tape with literally half a wall left twice. I have no idea why I didn’t buy the value pak, okay! Don’t judge me!

And in between all that, I painted.

The living room alone took an entire weekend. One day to tape and prime. One day to paint. Our living room has wood paneling. That means you have to use a paint brush to go between each panel from ceiling to floor. If that is not the definition of tedious, I failed 7th grade English. About half way through the first day, though, I got in to a rhythm. Music blaring, dropping paint blobs, wiggling my butt, swigging a beer.

I painted.

On the second day, I couldn’t find a Pandora station I wanted to listen to, so I painted in silence. It’s amazing what your brain can work through when your mind is still, your arms are moving, and it’s impossible to touch your cell phone without getting paint on it. I thought about how we got here, to this exact house. How I got here. I thought about the complicated emotions I experienced the last time I painted, in my condo, that I bought by myself after ending a 10-year relationship with the man I thought I would marry. I thought about the value of waiting for the rightness — the right color, the right man, the right house.

I painted.

By the time I got to the guest bedroom, I was plum tuckered out, so I didn’t think. I just painted. The monotony of the motion became its own meditation. I came to the room scattered, hurried, and somewhat irritated by life’s current circumstance. I left calm. Satisfied. Pleased, even, and ready for company.

I painted.

I rushed through the hallway, just wanting to get it done. By that point, I was seriously bored with this whole painting thing. A friend I sincerely wanted to talk to called about halfway through the process. Determined to finish that evening, though, I locked the phone between ear and shoulder and continued painting. Over the hour and half it took to complete the hall and the call, I completely forgot my boredom. I might have developed torticollis , but that seems like a small price to pay for painting with a friend.

Over the past few years, as my salary has increased and my free time decreased, I’ve fallen into the trap of paying for convenience. I didn’t want to paint our house. I wanted to pay someone to do it. Now, I’m quite grateful to those stingy bastards for refusing the paint allowance and even more appreciative that I can manipulate my time, both personal and professional, to allow for painting.

I still have the office, guest bathroom, master bedroom, den, and kitchen to go. I’m likely to be the second coming of Buddha by the time I’m done! Except, I’m pretty sure I’ll hate painting again by the time we’re through. I’m even more certain the people at Lowe’s will hate me. I think I just needed to paint right now. To noodle through some stuff in my head. To be reminded of the satisfaction that comes from the work itself. To watch my house transform from someone else’s into mine.

As an intellectual, I often rely on my brain to fuel my defiance. Painting reminded me that my body is pretty damn defiant too. I plastered, sanded, taped, primed, and painted 1,000 square feet of this house entirely by myself. Defiance is deciding that something must be, and determining a way to get it done. And I absolutely love looking up while writing this to see a room that is bright, modern, and comfortable all because I committed to making it so.

So I will keep painting. Because there is more work to be done, and because I really hate avocado. God help the poor people at Lowe’s.