The Siren Song

Let’s talk about the bathroom, again, because you haven’t heard enough about my wall paper dilemma (read sarcasm).

After waving the white flag the other day, I got an estimate to remove the remaining 1% of the wallpaper in the powder room (the 1% that is kicking my butt), as well the wallpaper in the master bath.  The price included patching and repainting the ceiling and walls, and replacing the trim in the powder room.


Whoa, Nelly!

Nine hundred and seventy five dollars?  You’ve seen my powder room.  I think if I stretched my arms far enough, I might be able to stand in the middle of the room and touch both walls.  And let’s not forget, as the painter pointed out, 99% of the work is done.  The master bath, yeah, it’s bigger, but the actual wall space, not that much more.

So, what did I do last last night?  I started scraping again, and Little Lady peed on the floor, twice.  What do these two things have in common?  I say not much, but my other half insists otherwise. He says Little Lady was acting out because I was spending too much time in the bathroom.  Hmmm. I think someone might be projecting a little. While I was holed up scraping wallpaper, he had to clean up the pee.

I don’t know.  Nine hundred and seventy five dollars just seems like a lot of money for a job I could do myself.

Except, for some reason, as much as I hate to admit it, I can’t do it myself.

Yesterday, when the painter and I reviewed my techniques and tools, he said, “Well, you’re hired.  This exactly everything we would do.”

Of course, they wouldn’t be doing it while raising three kids, and doing laundry, and washing dishes, and picking up and dropping off, and making dinner, and giving baths, and (most importantly) they wouldn’t be doing it for free.

I just have to admit that I need help (in more ways than one).  The wallpaper has become my siren song, calling me back, over and over again, even when I know I am fighting a losing battle.  It’s the only way to explain why, after calling it quits again last night, I returned again, this morning.  It also explains why, despite another round of hard work, I still have a million teeny tiny pieces of wallpaper stuck to the wall.

So, I gave up, again, this time for good.  Then, I called two more painters.

Like I told my husband, who thinks I have lost my mind, “I don’t want to peel wallpaper. I want to decorate my house for Christmas.”  If I can get an estimate for a few hundred dollars less, that’s exactly what I intend to do. Keep your fingers crossed for me.

By the way, don’t think I’m not kicking myself for not selling this house when I had a chance!


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