A few days ago I decided that I was going to paint our dinea area blue. I say "area" because it's the other half of the kitchen that's seperated by the truly retro L shaped counter tops. So, T and I got up this morning and got the paint. A gallon of something or other blue, I'll just call it "shop towel" blue because really, it's nearly he exact same shade. So, we come home, eat lunch, we play for a bit and then T goes down for a nap which is when I went into action.
At some point since we've moved in my husband bought a giant roll of plastic for me to use when I paint. I rummaged around in the garage for a bit and couldn't find it so I quickly decided that the ginormous box that the lawnmower came it would suffice. I drug it in and flung it on the floor matter-of-factly and was quite pleased with it's size and that it covered a lot of floor. Now, time to paint. I decided to start with the trim that meets the ceiling so, I poured some paint into my little paint holder thingy and began to work. All the while leaving the gallon of paint on the floor (well, actually on the box) with the lid off! After completing about half of the room I decided to step off of my ladder to admire my work. I took a few steps back and walked right into the can of paint, knocking it over and dumping more than half of it out. This was my reaction -----> Oh f***, oh f***, oh f***!! I quickly picked up the can of paint and set it up right and then I just panicked. Most of the paint had spilled out onto the box but, there was some that spilled out onto the floor. Okay, when I say it like that it doesn't sound as bad as it really was. Picture this, a circle of gorgeous shop towel blue paint 4 feet in diameter, now 1/3 of that is on my floor. That's a lot of freaking paint. And as I was watching it spread further out I was running in circles around it going, "what do I do?! What do I do?! -- I have NO idea what to do!" And as I ran those circle I managed to step in it and only realized it after I made tracks all over my kitchen. So, socks came off (yes, I was painting with just my socks on, no shoes) and threw them in sink. Please, note that only one sock had paint on it, the other one was surprisingly clean. Once the socks were off I resumed my panicked dance around the enourmous pool of paint and....stepped in it again. "Oh, mother f*$%&@!!" I wiped as much paint off of my one foot as I could and then put that one clean sock back on. So, there I was, one sock on, one sock off. Ten minutes had passed and all I had was a bigger mess than what I had started with and I was still at a loss for how I should go about cleaning this up off of my floor.
At this point I took several deep breathes and decided that I needed to get it off of my floor first, that the stuff on the box was fine for now. So, that's what I did. I scooped it up with spatulas and got it off my floor. I then got on my hands and knees and scrubbed it with hot soapy water and made sure there was no trace of it at all. The fact that the rest of it was on the box made it easy to get out. I just picked up it up and took it outside.
It's funny now but, yesterday as it was happening it was sooo not funny. But, I learned an important lesson--to always keep the paint covered!
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