Say it Paint So!

           I have a new belief: I think paint molecules are sentient beings. Not only that, but they are pranksters, just looking for ways to spill and create chaos.

No use crying over spilled paint, you say? Oh, yes there is.  I spilled a quart of diluted outdoor, cream-colored paint ALL OVER my dark brown kitchen floor. I’m telling you, the paint LEAPED from my hands. Much worse than this:

          I’ve been working on a paint project in the back yard (pictures to come in next week’s post), and when carrying in the tools, my dyspraxia kicked in, and voila!  Paint everywhere.

          It splashed from the sink to the fridge, from the oven to the entry. Did I mention it also got all over the island?  And all over me?  I would have taken photos, but it was 106 degrees—we’ve been having a heat wave—and everything was drying the second it landed.

          I used an entire roll of paper towels mopping up this disaster, scrubbing dinner plate-sized puddles and pin-dot splatters, and digging into grooves between wooden planks. Took at least an hour.

          Then I hammered the lid back onto the paint can, trapping those little imps until next time.  But, of course, St. Bob came home in time to see me hammering and began to sing, “I hear you knockin’ but you can’t come in…”

          But you can relax in your clean home with no paint spills, and watch my Youtube Mom videos anytime!

Can't Blame Auto-Correct This Time!

           This is quite possibly my most embarrassing admission, yet. I know, I know, a pretty high bar has been set by previous blogs, but this promises to set a new standard of blondeness, at least.

          Here’s what happened. First, we decided to put some under-the-cabinets lighting in the kitchen. I love the extra brightness when I’m cooking.  St. Bob, as St. Bob does, handled everything. He bought the lights, installed them, then tossed a little remote onto the counter, which turns them on and off. Easy peasy.

          So I decided to try turning them on myself. I should also tell you that St. Bob is the only human in this house who has also handled the multiple TV remotes. I basically have nothing to do with electronics. So I am not familiar with these cell phone lookalikes.

          But I picked up the remote anyway. And what do I see? A helpful little button that says, “No.” Yep, right there on the bottom, in green.

          Well, I don’t want to push one that could eject me through the roof and into the stratosphere, right?  Or it could detonate a bomb somewhere.  At the very least, it will short out our kitchen lights.  Certainly bad things will result. Why else would they be sure to label one with the warning, “NO”?

          Okay, then I did glance at the other buttons and realized they were upside down. It was all over in a matter of seconds, really. I turned it around, pressed “ON” and the lights sparkled into being.

          But I still think “No” when I pick it up. And now, the next time you do something embarrassing, you can compare it to this true story and feel quite brilliant. You’re welcome.

          There is no Youtube Mom video about how to realize what buttons actually mean. But there are plenty of short life hacks that will amaze you right here!