Here’s the red table as it looks now. Painting it with spray paint was an adventure. I did it in the little passage from my kitchen to my laundry room, because there’s a big window there I could open. I taped a plastic drop sheet on the walls and underfoot and I thought I had it covered. Hah! I underestimated the distance that fine mist from the aerosol would travel, and I ended up with a pale pink blush all over the kitchen floor! I had to swab the whole deck. Not to mention my own hands and feet — I had to buy a new pair of slippers.

Next morning I realized the legs needed a second coat (the table legs, not mine!) but I was reluctant to spray more. So had the brilliant (!) idea to cover a plastic cup with a plastic bag, punch a hole in it and spray enough paint in it to dip a brush. Sounded good in theory, but whatever is in that can melted the plastic cup! Having gone thus far, I just ploughed on and painted the legs, dripping paint on the laundry room floor as well as my hands.

I then left my apartment and went straight to the paint shop on the corner, my hands covered in red paint so that I looked as if I’d just committed a dastardly crime. When the guy asked how he could help me, I just help up my hands and said, “Do you have anything for this?” Fortunately, he did, and now all is well.

Note to self: no more painting furniture. Actually, no more painting. Next time, call in a professional!

I think it was worth it though, don’t you?