No, this house is not abandoned.

The paint on our house was a little worse for wear when we bought it. After three and a half years of rain, neglect, and winds that would make folks in Florida want to call their insurance providers, our house has started to look not unlike a crack house.

Ross and I have talked about painting it for awhile. Well, three and a half years, actually. We're good at talking.

But after I came home to my new front yard I started realizing how bad the house really looked. Ross mentioned how great it would be if the house could be painted by the time my grandmother visits at the end of the month.

On Saturday, about 2pm, Ross said, "what do you want to do today". I said, "let's paint the house!" And he said, "okay!". Actually it didn't go down quite like that, but this version is better so we'll go with this one.

I'm going to regret saying this on here, especially after my little tirade before, but we ended up going to The-Hardware-Store-That-Shall-Not-Be-Named to get paint. For reasons I shall also not go into here. And in defense of that particular store, it was an uneventful visit. With no extra trips back required.

Ross pressure washed the house until 10:30 that night. Thankfully our new neighbors (delightful folks!) were moving in at that time so they weren't bothered by their crazy new neighbors who apparently like to pressure wash their house in the middle of the night. The next morning we masked off the windows (well, most of them anyway) and Ross got to spraying. My parents lent us their paint sprayer a really, really long time ago. And we just sort of never gave it back. Oops.



I picked out the color I thought was the color I wanted: a dark, charcoal gray. But as it turns out, I picked a shade darker of the same stupid color the house was already painted. It seriously reminds me of Civil War uniforms. You know, a nice, happy color. Overcast blue. Blue-gray. Civil War Blue. Tut tut, it looks like Crayola forgot to take his Prozac this morning. It's depressing. And I hate it.

However, I have been informed that hating the color you picked out yourself is evidently NOT a reason to repaint the house. Even if it looks stupid. And seriously depressed.

So I'm working on LOVING the color of our house! Perhaps I'll pierce the eaves and give it a tattoo on the lower part of the back porch. Then we'll have the goth house. And we'll be cool. 'Cause it's cool to be angry and depressed.

Okay I'm done, I promise. Despite that the color is not my favorite (by a long shot), it does look sooooooo much cleaner! It looks fresh! You know, like the goth kid who finally washed her hair for the first time in three months. And the happy front yard takes off some of that Marilyn Manson edge.

At least until I convince Ross to repaint it.

Kathleen –   – (July 9, 2010 at 4:06 PM)  

When are you going to launch it? Hah! OK, it doesn't look exactly like battleship grey, but I thought I'd throw that thought out there to distract you from the goth idea.

Pink Dog  – (July 9, 2010 at 6:00 PM)  

I just realized how bad this last picture is. The house was still wet and we hadn't finished touching it up yet when I took the picture. We also had to get extra paint from Fred Meyer that the Magic Matcher Machine didn't match so well. When we fix it I'll post a better photo. For now we're just expressing our creative sides. Don't judge.

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