Viji's chandelier was something I just couldn't wrap my head around. We looked at it closely trying to figure out if it was created to be that dusty-brown-drabtasticness or if someone chose to make it that way. Whatever road was taken to get to that hot mess needs to be condemned, better yet, spray painted gold.
We popped off the shades, covered the electrical parts and left it hanging since the ceilings are so high and we didn't know how to disconnect it.
When I work on projects at other people's homes there is a large amount of anxiety from trying to make sure that everything is perfect. I strive for no evidence of DIYness. I was on the stool, using my height to spray paint the top sections delicately, holding a plastic bag in the other hand to make sure and catch all of my errant gold squirts. Once the top was covered, I handed the can to Viji to paint the bottom section. Before I could even ask if she wanted my spray bag, she was spraying with the fervor and intensity of a teenager tagging the Brooklyn bridge. I bolted out of the way, relieved that any stray gold dust found on the nearby furniture would not be mine.
It looked stunning. Stunning, sugar-britches! We left off the shades and stood there for a couple of minutes entranced by the beautiful Midas glow.
Still hypnotized by the newness, I was jarred back to reality by the sound of the squirt-squirt coming from the spray paint can. Viji was ready to paint the world gold and the urns from her fireplace were the next victims.
Luckily, they need it. And luckily, the can was empty before I left.
No comments:
Post a Comment