Sticktoitiveness

A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, I redecorated my home office.

Just kidding. This event transpired right here in the Milky Way Galaxy, as my adventures usually do.

But it was a ways back. Eleven months ago, I embarked upon the project of redoing this room from top to bottom. And nine months ago, I called the job complete.

Except for one glaring exception. The door.

^ See? This photo, taken during the celebratory post-project home tour, highlights the problem. There ain't no door.

That's because the poor beast had been banished to the garage, where it was quietly waiting for a fresh coat of paint.

Red paint.

On the inside only. Just for fun.

So why on earth did I delay this final task for the better part of a year?

Well. Pardon my lame excuses, but doors are best painted on the driveway, over a pair of sawhorses. And here in the temperate region of the globe, the outdoor painting season is limited to summer. And here in the Pacific Northwest, summer boils down to a few random weeks between the Fourth of July and Labor Day when the planets align and you rub your lucky rabbit foot and somehow the sun actually manages to come out and warm your permafrost bones for a few hours a day.

So let's just say I was looking for a slim window of opportunity in which to complete my project.

But oh, happy day! This weekend was the perfect opportunity, so I whipped out my paint rollers and the dusty can of paint, and wrapped up the job without complications.

Well. There was that trail of kitty tracks that appeared on the door while it sat out on the driveway. But they were just dusty paw prints and I easily wiped them off. No harm, no foul.

This shot most accurately captures the true color of the door: Behr Lipstick.

Tonight, my red door is finally hanging where it belongs, right in front of me as I type.

And at long last, the galaxy is at peace.