PAINT
Ruth Allen

My journal today is very funny and sadly true. Yesterday afternoon I decided that I was going to paint the tops of my chairs, which I have been wanting to do for sometime and never got at it. So the paint I was using was a spray paint and the can was brand new. I had one heck of a time trying to loosen the lid. Here I was trying every tool I could find that would fit under the lid to make it make it come off.

Just as I thought I almost had it off the object I was using slipped and punctured the can. There I had paint spraying all over my kitchen cupboards and floor. I dared to move with it. I opened the door and held it in the porch and got it sprayed all around in there. Finally it had released most of the pressure and stopped enough to take it to the back room for Norman to deal with in case there was any paint left in it to rescue.

Well, now I had all the clean up to do. I scrubbed and scrubbed trying to get the paint off everything. When Norman came home and saw the porch he said, "What the hell happened here?" Then came the "OK, I told you to wait for me to give you a hand with that."

He was lucky I couldn't find the other can I had bought!
That's my story and I'm sticking to it.
(By the way...I've been wanting a new ceiling and kitchen floor.)