My House Painting Woes Have Me Searching For Comfort Food

THE SONIC BOOMER

Where’s my comfort food when I need it? Where! There is neither a potato chip nor a can of aerosol cheese in the house. Even the ice is gone. How am I supposed to come back to an even keel here?

It’s only a matter of time before I whip, yell at my husband Mark, or kick a kid’s jack-o-lantern down the block (no, I would never do that – kick a kid’s jack-o’-lantern – that’s really that much too). But things are pretty bad.

Oh wait a minute. Here’s something I hid under the kale a long time ago that no one ever goes – cream cheese! Yay!

Wolf it down.

Feel better.

I am mostly mad at myself. Do you remember when I told you I decided to paint the house? Do you have the front door and a window ready and everything? Well, Mark stopped me because there is obviously something called “prep” where you stop what you’re doing, put your good mood in your shoes and instead spend your time removing shutters and screens and Go to the hardware store to rent a pressure washer. Then the next day (a day you get tired of painting the house) you have 24 hours to blow up old paint and wipe the whole thing (a house the size of a house!) Before drying it so you can actually start painting the next day.

My goodness.

But I was motivated to do this because my shutters were on the lawn and the screens were leaning against the garage and passers-by started asking questions. So in record time I thought Mark and I had washed the place under pressure, and guess what? It looked good. It looked so good that I decided to pressure wash my car.

When my neighbor came out and paid me a compliment and cast a hopeful eye on her front hallway, I offered to pressurize that too. I was just about to start on their driveway when Mark stopped me, hastily turned off the engine, and wrapped the hoses. (Will he never let me have fun?)

And there I saw it – a huge gaping hole in the front bumper of my car! What? How did this happen?

Well it happened when I pulled my car way too close to the pressure washer and let the big machine’s glowing little muffler melt through the plastic bumper to the car’s steel frame while I was busy trying to save money, avoid the car wash and collect You brownie points by being a good neighbor.

And now I needed three sticks of cream cheese, a glass of dubious chocolate milk, and two popsicles stuck to the bottom of the freezer to calm me down. Was it worth it?

I’ll let you know when the house is painted.

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