But yesterday I was shocked to discover him home early - sanding the downstairs bedroom. He had it in his head that he would finish up the sanding and put on a first coat of primer. And I wasn't one to argue.
One of the greatest features of that room in a time like this is the door. Really, only our two bedrooms and the bathroom can be truly closed off. None of our other rooms have doors. So Mike just shut himself in as well as all dust and nasty fumes. It was a nice change of pace to our usual most-mess-possible methods.
By morning the door was open and I could faintly smell the primer. Just the smell of it really sent me back to the days before paint. And then the sight of that room, white. I couldn't tell you the last time that room was white. But it made me think of when we lived in there as the rest of the house was still under construction.
Ah, memories.
I would imagine that tonight he'll throw a second coat on there and be able to paint in color by weeks end if his motivation keeps up. I feel bad just sitting around while he's closed in that little room... with paint. But nothing I can do about that, unfortunately.
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