The meteorologists went into a major tizzy a few days ago, promising the first snowfall, and a crazy one at that. On Friday evening we had word from Iowa that they had over twelve inches of snow. It was headed east.
Saturday morning finds us with probably about six inches of snow give or take a few inches. It is very wet, compacting snow and it is hard to gauge. The driveways and streets either have nothing or a wet slush cover. Stewie and I went out in the some thirty-four degree weather to find ourselves either on clean or slushy walks or walking through water. I tried to avoid it; Stewie did not, no surprises there. As it turns out, after that initial snowfall, there must have been about six inches of wet snow again as I had to shovel twice and it was impossibly heavy.
We were pretty much alone on our walk at the usual time of day; I am supposing the others were put off by the precipitation. When we left, it looked as though it were raining. I dressed accordingly and opted for a baseball cap despite the cold as it would keep my head dry, or so I thought. It actually did. My legs actually got the brunt of the wet snow, my old L.L. Bean shell having protected my upper body from the wetness of the falling snow.
I was annoyed to see that my wonderful protection of a tent-like net over the pond collapsed under the weight of the snow. My next question is to figure out what I need to do with it. If the weather gets nice enough, I can remove the net as the leaves are pretty much taken care of. I will have to let it go for now, something I find extremely hard to do.
Friday found me pretty much chilling, watching episodes of “Strike Back,” a favorite show of mine that I discovered a few years ago. Despite owning several years worth of episodes, I have not found the time to watch them.
I did manage to pull out the old paint cans and touch up the paint in the main bathroom and on the lower walls by the staircase. The staircase walls had a few nicks from carrying things up and down and needed my attention but the bathroom walls are another story entirely.
I have been painting walls for my entire life, having lived with a breadwinner who was a bookkeeper for a dime store and who had to scrounge around to get simple repairs or painting done, depend on her father who had a penchant for the bizarre (mixing all the latex paints together to come up with a brown color to paint the exterior walls of the garage), or hiring someone she knew. Before the age of sixteen, if my memory serves me right, I had a paintbrush in my hands.
I am a perfectionist and my wall painting reflects it so well. I detest using that disgusting blue tape to prepare the walls; I find that I make more of a mess than without. Being able to paint a straight line, or at least give the appearance of one, I go about my work with a surprisingly steady hand. The perfectionist side has made going into my central bathroom unpleasant as I look at the very expensive wall paint that I used from Benjamin Moore. Way back in the day, I remember that Sears’ paint was the bomb; from there I graduated to Pratt & Lambert and then Benjamin Moore, experimenting along the way to find the best paint and constantly searching for the best. Our current house was first painted by yours truly with oil base paint and I loved it. I found it easy to put on; less annoying odor-wise, and damn it could deal with the antics of three boys. I slowly changed the house paint to more ecologically sound latex and I had no big issue with it except for the white on the step risers, I ended up repainting it with oil base, it just could not stand the traffic, ending up horribly scuffed and needing a weekly spot removal.
The latex evolved into a tiny little can for a small bathroom, a paint that would supposedly go on in one coat (ha, ha, ha!), and despite the fact that it almost did, I ended up putting on a second coat. The main bathroom was always a problem and I spoke to the paint store about it, being told that it needed at least six to eight months to properly cure. Well, cure it did and after that, pinpoints of paint disappeared, looking as if one had splattered white paint over the gray we had chosen. I pulled out my little container of paint and touched it up and did so again and again and again. On Friday, I pulled out my paint, had a tiny roller, and did the backsplash and the other spots I found all over the wall. I am guessing that I covered over two hundred spots. I was hoping against hope that the new paint would blend in with the old. It did. It looks great, but I am wondering how long this will last.
Meanwhile, goodbye Benjamin! I have had it. I have a few other Benjamin issues within the house but at least that paint has been on for a longer time.
Richie tells me Sherwin Williams is the way to go. That surprises me because in my experience, it was always a paint for those who could not afford the best. Given what I have seen in the main bathroom, it certainly could not be worse. To think how much money I have spent on Benjamin Moore and despite having the PR and cost of a luxurious wall covering, it doesn’t fit that bill.
So, dining al fresco last Saturday, dealing with the aftermath of major frozen precipitation this week, oh, Chicago!