Well, I've done it again. Disregard the birthday fiasco with my stint as an amature plumber that made it rain in my kitchen. Oh no. That was nothing. Tonight, after a sumptuous dinner, Andrea and her brother took Felix upstairs to hang out in the bedroom and read magazines. Ah ha! A Friday night and there are more than enough people to manage Felix's feedings and diaper changes. I better jump on this opportunity!
So I close the door to the basement, open all the windows and the door to the outside at the top of the basement stairs, and I dust off the wooden rocking chair that I have been lightly sanding over the past few days. What better time to get that first coat of primer on it? I'm planning on working on this project tomorrow, but it's supposed to rain tomorrow like it did today, so who knows. I've got the basement ventilated and closed off from the rest of the house. So I start painting. I get about 1/4 of the way done with the first coat of primer (spray-on primer) when Andrea throws open the door at the top of the stairs.
"What the hell are you doing?!?!?!?!?!"
I'm getting a head start.
"The entire house is filled with noxious fumes! Stop doing that right now. Are you insane?????"
It's one of those moments when you think to yourself, "How can they possibly smell this two stories up???" But sure enough...the whole house smells like spray paint.
I dunno. It seemed perfectly rational when i started. So now I've got all the windows opened, door opened, fans blowing and Andrea has taken Felix to her brother's for the night. I feel about this tall [
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