I painted my kitchen on Martin Luther King Day – the whole damn thing. My timing was impeccable. Five hours for the first coat, then a 2-hour break involving an outdoor run in the gorgeous warm sun, and back for the second coat, finishing up in just under 9 hours of total painting time.

I love to paint.

From the opening of the lid… the gorgeous, thick, creamy color… the pouring of paint into the tray… to the first dip of the roller… the christening of the wall… the heavy trim brush full of pigment pushing into the seams… It’s sensual and exciting for me.

The concentration required to maintain a steady hand for the trim is challenging, but not too much, so that my mind has little time to wander too far beyond the task at hand. One wall at a time… one section at a time. I can take a break whenever I want, but I usually push myself instead because I want to see my new room from every possible angle without blocking out the undone parts with my hand.

At the end of it all, after everything has been cleaned and rinsed and put away, I can’t stop admiring my work. I turn on lights in different combinations to experience every possible ambience. I walk out of the room just so I can walk back in and be surprised. And I especially love the next morning, when I’ve sort of forgotten, but not really, and the full sunlight is shining all over the room and showing it off.

I love my new kitchen.

2 Comments on “

  1. Congrats on getting the kitchen the way you like it.

    I'll be painting bedrooms this weekend. (My post-painting description will likely not sound quite so much like the poetry of your painting experience.)


  2. the intense, passionate way you described your painting experience is exactly the way I would have! I know what you mean and I can relate. Painting is an escape, a refreshing, satisfying release of emotions and escape from reality. Keep on painting!


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