Thursday, May 1, 2014

until it's burned in your mind's eye

That's how many times I'm going to share this terrible, stress-inducing photo.
This room has been a journey.
First we cleaned it out.
Lots of mementos.
Lots and lots of stuff.
Some was donated.
Some was yard saled.
Some was thrown away.
Some was stored properly.

After it was cleared out, our plan was to paint it.
Because  wood paneling and dark beige beams are not our jam.

Sounded easy enough except I forgot California doesn't sell oil based paint.
Que my whining.
So, we (and by we I mean D and the kid he hired down the street to help) deglossed.
We primed with shellac.
Then we painted.

Oh my.

I only did the cut in and that was enough for me.

And now.
Our rumpus room is actually a room.
No longer a storage unit.
No longer a mess.
We hosted Easter and managed to easily fit three, six foot tables down the center.

It's probably ::ridiculous:: to feel as giddy about this empty space as I do. 
But darn it...I can't wipe the grin off my face.
And I'm thinking that after all the work that went into it...that's okay.

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