Regardless, I've had plans for 2 months to paint this door. Last week, I bought paint.
On Saturday, Scott had to work. He came home around noon and then we needed groceries so I went to the store and ran errands while he napped off an 80 hour work week. So the day was kind of shot. We've been making it a point to get out of the house at least once each weekend simply because if we stay here too long we'll go insane. The house is a living breathing version of Comic Sans to-do list. The plan was to take care of things in the morning and take the dogs swimming at a state park in the afternoon. However, as I looked around the house at everything that hasn't yet been accomplished, I started to feel anxious. I took to the door, while I was cleaning up the yard and doing laundry and trying to pack a picnic all at the same time.
As I was painting this purple door, I found myself getting angrier and angrier. WHY WOULD YOU PAINT A DOOR PURPLE?, I thought. I gritted my teeth. I felt all the frustration I was holding onto over school anxiety, army problems, remodeling stress, and health issues come to the surface. The door had me in tears.
You see, this door seemed to be something I could control. Lately, I've been going to the doctor a lot and I can't control the myriad of things I apparently have wrong with me.* Last week, for the second time, I was told I have a low platelet count. What does that even mean, right? I mean, you can't control your platelets.
But I could control this door. Of course, I shouldn't have to control it in the first place. BECAUSE THE DOOR NEVER SHOULD'VE BEEN PAINTED PURPLE TO BEGIN WITH. I don't understand why some people insist on wasting our God-given free will. So I had to put blue tape around the frame, I had to be calm about it so it would line up correctly, I had to paint gently enough that the Lincoln Cottage Black wouldn't splatter all over me (it did anyway), and I had to be patient enough to wait for it to dry before I could pull the tape off.
Anyway, that purple door and all my worries ruined my day. We didn't leave for the lake until 3:30. It was a 2 hour drive. There were no lakeside spots except near some people who seemed to be Russian mafia (and we've been watching The Americans, so we're on alert for such things). But it was too chilly up in the mountains for swimming anyway. The charcoal wouldn't light because it was wet and Scout's shock collar had a dead battery. The dogs ended up eating a dead turtle. By the time we left, it was dark and we stopped at Culver's on the way home. Frozen custard makes most things better.
*It's really just like one or two things but I'm pretty overdramatic, I guess.
*It's really just like one or two things but I'm pretty overdramatic, I guess.
[note: all unedited pictures]