Tickled Pink

My daughter is tickled pink. Can't you tell?



You see, we spent the weekend painting our garage. Well, not actually painting it per se. We scraped it and primed it.

Since we decided to change the color of the garage from it's original (stained and peeling) white to a darker, deeper red brown that matches our brickwork, the helpful man in the paint department suggested we tint the primer.

He dutifully plugged our chosen color name into his trusty paint-mixing computer, and out poured perfectly-measured amounts of red, brown, and black. He loaded the can of primer in the shaker. He warned us that the color would not come out as dark as our paint -- so there would be a contrast between coats.

Out of the paint shaker it came; our daughter couldn't have been more pleased.



We started to apply the primer, and just as we finished, the sky opened up. It rained and rained, preventing us from painting the much darker finish coat.

It's raining again today, much to my daughter's pleasure and my husband's chagrin.

Why? This is why.



All I can think of is Pepto Bismol and the fact that our neighbors may disown us.

But at least my daughter is happy. That has to count for something, right?

- Midwest Mom