Expectations

The bathroom didn't turn out like I expected. The top layer of old existing paint on the walls was less stable than I'd hoped, so I spent a bunch of time chipping it away, sweeping up all the debris, and finally accepting it was more trouble that it was worth to remove all of the old top coat. The unevenness of the seam between ceiling and walls made it impossible to paint a smooth straight edge, not to mention the not so great brushes I was trying to paint with and the awkward position of having to paint while looking up steeply, and the fickleness of my paint delivery. Then I found that the earthy red paint that Rosie chose went on too thin to cover with a first coat. 

What I've ended up with so far doesn't match my image of the results I was hoping for. The off-white underneath is showing through, some places are much darker than others, and the edges are all rough and wobbly looking. Definitely not the even and clean look I was anticipating.

Somehow, this didn't really upset me too much. I sorted through the mess of stuff packed away in cupboards and shelves. I got to listen to a bunch of interesting podcasts. I stopped and ate chocolate now and then. I got the bathroom a lot cleaner than it was before. And the way it looks now sort of makes me laugh. It's satisfyingly odd and quirky and defiantly disordered. It looks like something a peasant might have done in 16th century Europe.

I can put another coat of paint on eventually. And meanwhile, I can enjoy the relative artful chaos as it stands now.

I could have been perturbed that the results didn't match my expectations. But I wasn't for some reason. I guess I just didn't want to get that upset. What happened, happened. Kind of amusing, actually. I'd say I found a satisfying amount of happiness throughout the overall process, quite aside from the limits of my expectations. Maybe expectations aren't all they're built up to be.

--Steve