With the bitter cold keeping hubby and me inside--okay, I'll admit it. It's keeping me, the wimp inside-- we chose to paint the living room. The furniture was shoved into the center of the room and tarps put down. Next we taped the woodwork and pulled out the paint. We bought this awesome ceiling white paint that goes on pink then turns white. Love this stuff. I asked hubby, commander of this project, which direction he wanted the strokes to go. He pointed to the outer wall and said, "May as well go this way since I already started painting." Fine. I walked to the other side of the room and kept my strokes like he said. After a few splats in my hair, I looked over at him. He had turned his roller in a different direction! No. This cannot be. He set the standard, I followed, it is etched in stone. "You can't go that way, I said." "Sure I can. The ceiling is textured." And that was all he had to say. By the time he reached t...
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