I've got so many questions today.
Where does paint go? I mean, I bought a GALLON of paint (in "Baby Buttercup" for those of you who care) for the hallway and the first layer got SUCKED into the wall like I was painting a dry sponge. We had the walls painted when we built this house...is there some sort of drywall absorption that I don't know about? Does paint flake off over time and get swept away? Does paint evaporate? Did we have bad painters who skimped on the work first time around?
That gallon almost didn't make it through both coats. I was down to scraping the bottom of the can.
Why do I think painting a room will be no big deal and then it ends up being a TOTAL big deal? I've spent a day on this and I'm still not done cleaning up and "resetting" the room. I've got pictures to hang up, a floor to clean and nasty bits of painters tape to scrape off. And my shoulders hurt. (Yeah, I totally typed that while using my whiny inner voice--should I have used italics?) Hu-urt. That's better.
Where were Opie's kids last night? And his mother? That seemed like an uncharacteristic lapse in the flawless continuity I've come to expect from Kurt Sutter. Ashley Tisdale's guest role makes me applaud her agent. Brilliant crossover role from Disney, isn't it? Drama teen queen/fashionista on Disney TV to prostitute on Sons of Anarchy. I do so like Jimmy Smits as Nero.
My manuscript project got rejected. I've come to expect that, sadly. And I'm sitting on a really good novel, but I can't get anyone, not even my literary agent, take a look at it. All this rejection makes it even less appealing to sit down and grind out revisions on my current manuscript. Writing is desolate stuff, I tell you.
But I'm having another good hair day, I've got leftovers in the fridge so I can skip making dinner tonight and it's kind of nice outside, despite the fog.
Spill it, reader. What questions do you have?