I live in one of these turn of the (21st) century houses, where some dumbass decreed that not only should there be no woodwork, there shouldn't even be corners. That's right. Everywhere you'd think about changing paint colors, there's a God-Awful Bullnose corner that the builder decided would look "modern" (i.e. save .08 cents) where the paint can neither stop nor start.
As part of my recuperation from the Shawl-Which-Shall-Not-Be-Named, I have returned to the four-year saga known as "Finally Installing Trim in my House".
Here is the triumph of Tuesday, in which I overcame the horrors of bad window casing (meaning that there was no window casing at all) in my powder room. Tomorrow's destiny is to paint the walls "Marigold", and to change the nasty-ass builder grade light fixture to one that matches my sassy new washbasin hardware .
In this room, there is also the small problem that no one ever painted the walls. That's right: Since the year 1999, when our house was finished, no one (myself included) has ever taken the time to paint the walls of the downstairs loo. Time to correct that failure, in my opinion. Wait till you see the color we picked! Susie drove all the way down from Whidbey Island to advise me. The Big Guns have officially been employed.
What, you may ask, has this to do with knitting? Not a whit, Gentle Readers. I share it with you in the hopes that like me, you will occasionally remember that when knitting sucks (let's be honest, it often does), at least we know how to wield hammers.
When we can find the hammer, that is.
And when we do, darned if the simple act of painting a wall, or pounding a nail, makes us all the more aware that knitting is a gentle and refined art. No loud noises required. No drying or callusing of skin. For that matter, no permits required (though some bureaucratic permitting regulation might save us from ourselves...Imagine the application process for a lace shawl permit!)
Sometimes its nice to return to the basics of wood + nails + paint = complete loo makeover. I'll let you know tomorrow how that worked out for me.
In the meantime, I feel that I know what to do: If it looks like a nail, I'm gonna hit it.