Putting away the paintbrush, putting up the tree

After weeks of taping woodwork and painting walls and moving dropcloths from one room to another, today I have the delightful task of pulling up the last bits of masking tape and putting switchplates back on the walls in the kitchen as my husband stashes away all signs of the massive painting project we've completed.

Well, maybe completed isn't the right word. We haven't painted inside the front coat closet, and the vaulted ceilings in the kitchen and living room are painted only as high as we could reach with a stepstool and a long-handled roller. We'll have to borrow a ladder to paint the really high spots, but we're happy to postpone that chore until after Christmas. It's time to put away the paintbrushes and put up the tree.

Yesterday we were painting the kitchen and I needed to wipe up a drip, but the box of paper rags was in the other room and I didn't want to walk over there because I had wet paint on the bottom of my sock (because of course I did), so my adorable husband, who has a magical ability to avoid stepping in wet paint, went to the other room and brought me back a rag. Just one. Because after 38 years of close observation of my klutziness, he believes one rag will cover all my paint-wiping needs. Clearly the man is blinded by love, or something.

But together we finished the kitchen in record time, him on the stepstool tackling the high parts (because I have a hard enough time avoiding catastrophe while standing on a level floor) and me using the cutting-in brushes to do all the fiddly bits around the sink and appliances. The furniture was squooshed close together and piled high with plants to keep them away from the paint, so last night at supper we had to share the one accessible spot at the dinner table to enjoy some celebratory cheese and crackers after the second coat of paint had been applied.

And now we relax. Sure, there's plenty of work involved in getting ready for Christmas, especially with the grandkids coming for a visit next week, but holiday preparation won't require the paraphernalia of painting. It's not quite gold, frankincense, and myrrh, but if the first gift we receive this Christmas is the absence of paint, tape, and dropcloths, I'll accept it with pleasure.   

A small tree but festive enough.

Someone will have to scramble up a ladder to paint above the cabinets, but that someone will not be me.

A little disorder is part of the process.