There’s a stripe of paint on my left thigh.
It looks white against my skin, though technically it’s a light blue.
There was more paint, drips and finger smudges on both legs because I wanted to keep my gym shorts relatively paint-free, but I washed those off.
This one survived the washing.
We said we were going to paint the house when we bought it. Those first days we pulled out old and stinking carpet and laid light wood laminate down instead, and we left off the baseboards because we were going to paint.
But our savings account was depleted and school took up so much time and we waited. Next summer.
Next summer the bathroom demanded remodeling and old plumbing is a nightmare and I don’t want to remember how many trips to Lowes it took to attach new sink hardware, replace the cracked toilet.
We’re coming around on our second summer here and the hedges are tamed and weeds pulled out of the side yard and this time, painting finally won priority.
Painting and baseboards.
When we bought the house and he said there wasn’t time for paint and baseboards I told him I couldn’t live that way for long. I couldn’t stand the ugly three-inch strip of old wallpaper and glue along the bottom of the wall. But we moved the furniture in anyway and waited for time and after a while, I forgot about the baseboards.
I stopped seeing the ugly strip.
And apparently you can live just fine without baseboards.
(But I’m still eager to put them in, eager to see the old and stained beige walls give way to color.)
And I think there will be paint on my legs and hands and probably my gym shorts for the rest of this summer.