There was a lot of cleaning out before we started painting this week. Old paint from years past has gathered like magazines in a bathroom. I needed to figure out what was worth keeping and using before we crowded more in from this year. I don’t know how many buckets and cans I cracked open or at least tried. I have no idea how to tell if paint is still good or not, but I came up with some criteria…
Mold is growing inside.
The lid and the canister are one. (ie opening it isn’t an option)
You nearly vomit from the smell
You aren’t sure if it was once a single color and consistency, or if it’s supposed to look like that.
I love working with my hands. And this week, I used my hands to paint, my mind to design, and my heart to receive input and create something that everybody, not just me and my abstract desires would enjoy for the next two years. The place where I work to create a place of friendship for students at the University has a new look, and it was very hard work. The other things in my life, my study of political science, my relationships, hit a pause as every ounce of energy went into this work. And it is done. And I am proud, except for this one little part….but it’s ok. I’m probably going to be the only one who notices……