Here's a short list of things to know about me: I don't like painting trim. I'm at the age where I have to look over the top of my glasses to see things up close. I detest doing little fiddly things that take hours and hours and require me to concentrate really hard.
Y'all knew all that stuff already, right? I sure did. I mean, I know me. I know how I am. I know what makes me want to scream and throw things. And yet, painting the little fiddly bits of the porch posts three different colors and painting the brackets to match still seemed like a good idea. It stopped seeming like a good idea about halfway through the first afternoon.
By the second afternoon, I was questioning both my intelligence and my sanity. So was my neighbor Floyd.
"Dark gray stripes on white posts," he observed. "Boy, you're brave, aren't you?"
"No, I am not." I said. "I am out of my mind."
Friends, that dark gray stuff about did me in.
However, I managed to keep some shred of my sanity together long enough to finish the porch posts and brackets, even though I wanted to throw my teeny-tiny paintbrush into the street.
Believe me when I tell y'all, I am very glad there are no more posts and brackets on this house.