Paint, clean, clean, new paint.

I was roped into painting for a large majority of my evening today. Not that I mind. Actually, I enjoy, to some extent, the act of painting. It's refreshing in a way few things are. But if it wasn't so time consuming and such hard work, and such an expense at times, painting could almost be recreation. Almost.

But, alas, it is not.

The dream was that Tammy, Carol, myself, and Hilary would team up and use a paint sprayer to deal with the foyer, because it is a textured surface (It's made of swirls of plaster). One we loaded the sprayer, it was time to test the baby out.

The damn thing is loud, and seems to suck power like an arc-welder. It shot out an amazing amount of paint, and we were concerned at first because it seems Hilary and picked out the EXACT same color as what the foyer was previously. We could not tell what was and was not painted at first. The sprayer was holding strong, and the job was seeming to be over in just under an hour.

Then, the problems started, and soon brought our idea to a halt.

Tammy ended up finding herself being sprinkled upon, and the ceiling was receiving a fine powdering of paint particles. The sprayer, not only being noisy and powerful, had the knack of constant and devastating over-spray. This was not going to work in the close confines of the entry way. Then, Tammy noticed another problem. The paint started to run, badly.

"Well, we'd have to go over EVERYTHING with a roller anyway."

So, the electric sprayer was put to rest, and I decided to hell with it. All the taping was done, I was going to paint this foyer, even into the wee hours of the night.

I picked up my roller, and changed our light brown foyer into a basket-weave-colored foyer.