You could say I'm persistent....or maybe just stubborn. One of those.

The guys headed out to Asheville this morning.  As soon as they left, I donned my painting clothes and pulled out my gear.

It's not that I wanted to spend my Saturday painting the teeny-tiny downstairs bathroom - but it had to be done.

Someone bought the paint oh, about two years ago(!) and never got any further.  Despite the promises and the recent proclamations that "we" need to get some of these projects done around here since we are "supposed" to be selling the house. (I say "supposed to" because someone still hasn't even bought the sign)

Well, as you can imagine, he hasn't begun one project yet but still points out every single week that we need to get these things done.

I realize that painting is one of his least favorite things to do and, usually, I don't mind painting.  Unless it's a teeny-tiny bathroom that has lots of trim and molding that has to be taped off and cut in.  I have even offered SEVERAL times that if he would do the prep work, I would do the painting.

And still that paint just sat in the closet.

Until today, when I took it upon myself to get at least one project done around here while they are gone; because whether or not we sell, that bathroom needed to be painted.

Everything was going fine until I realized that I couldn't reach the ceiling trim with the step ladder to tape it off.  So I went and found the ladder.  Only to discover that the ladder is too big for the teeny-tiny room.

Undaunted, I decided to go ahead and paint what I could reach and make him finish the rest when he got home.

After I had done all I could do, I was sitting back congratulating myself on a job well done, when I realized that a couple of walls in the kitchen also needed painting.  And that it is the same color as the teeny-tiny bathroom.  The only problem?  The kitchen is painted with flat paint.  The bathroom paint is eggshell.  If I were going to paint those two small walls I would either need to go out and buy flat paint or use the remaining paint from the bathroom project to paint the WHOLE kitchen.

(As a side note, someone remind me to NEVER again let someone (i.e. builder/designer) talk me into using flat paint.  Because guess what?  Despite the promises that flat paint "has come a long way" and "can be cleaned" the sad fact is that it hasn't and it can't).

In a moment of insanity, I decided to go for it.  I figured I had 3/4ths of the gallon left and that there aren't any "full" walls in the kitchen (which meant there was a lot of taping off and cutting in to be done) so I should have plenty of paint.  And it worked out perfectly.

And for the second time today, I found myself sitting back and congratulating myself.  Until I began to get that nagging feeling in my brain.  The one that was telling me that there had to be a way for me to reach the top portions of those bathroom walls.

I found myself eyeballing the swivel stools at the kitchen island.  I could hear you all screaming "DON'T DO IT, YOU IDIOT!!!!"

You will be happy to learn that I listened to you.

Instead I found a stationery stool that was just a bit higher than the step ladder.  I brought it in and climbed up, but I was still just a few inches shy.

I again considered those swivel stools - which are about two inches higher than the stationery stool.  And again, I heard you all screaming, "ARE YOU CRAZY?! DO YOU REALLY WANT TO BREAK EVERY BONE IN YOUR BODY?"

And again, I listened to you.  Mainly, because I didn't want to spend my weekend in a puddle of broken bones in that teeny-tiny bathroom waiting for the boys to come home and find me.

So I turned my sights back to the ladder.  I figured there had to be a way to get that thing to fit in there and get the job done.

And after much maneuvering, I discovered that I could open the ladder just enough to wedge it between the two walls - so it wouldn't go anywhere even though it wasn't locked into position.  And then all I had to do was somehow wedge myself between the wall and the ladder enough to get up four steps.

So with much maneuvering and wedging I was able to finish the bathroom.  And now I'm exhausted, sore in that kind of way that I know means I won't be able to move tomorrow and very proud of myself.

And when the boys come rolling in on Monday, I will be able to show them the results of all my hard work.  And with THAT I think I will be able to guilt someone into cleaning out the flower beds without my assistance next weekend.