The Littlest Painter
Posted by in Living at 12:17 a.m. on Dec. 15th, 20040 Comments 0 Pings
Ack!
Sorry, guys, I know you’re all jonesing for some sort of anti-retard rant or something, but I’m painting my apartment this week. That means no TV, no radio, no Internet, no standing on the reload button hoping against hope that Velociman finally posted that picture of the pustule he promised us a while back. As primitive as can be, as they say.
There’s also no heat, as long-time readers may remember. You see, I’m not really painting my apartment. I’m painting my old apartment, which I moved out of about a month ago. So you know it’s done with love. Good lord, the paint-job looks like ass, despite what my esteemed colleagues have done to make it better. At 25 degrees Fahrenheit, paint neither dries nor covers the walls very well. And the unheated water that comes out of the tap does nothing to clean the brushes. FYI.
Keep the faith, my friends. There are pictures coming.