Painting and decorating

I knew there was a reason Rob advised me never to contemplate becoming a professional painter and decorator. I am reminded now because I rashly decided to paint our downstairs hallway, which has always been a bright orange colour. This is fine, it goes with the floor tiles, and should be an uplifting colour, but as our hallway gets no natural sunlight, it actually makes the house seem gloomy and dark. So, as we are about to have a big party to celebrate all our anniversaries and birthdays rolled up, I suddenly panicked and decided the entire house needed a makeover. Since my earnings of £6 an hour do not allow me to employ someone to do this, it has to be me.

I bought the 'hint of peach' thinking perhaps I could get away with one layer because the orange coming through underneath would compliment it. I banished the dogs and cat outside (where they sit glowering at me through the kitchen window) and set to work early this morning.

I had promised Rob that this time I would do all the preparation very carefully. I covered the orange spattered light switches with masking tape; I hoovered generations of spiders' webs from all the corners, behind the pipes, radiators etc. I got some dust sheets and put them on the floor so as not to wreck the tiles referred to above. I put on my old stripy nightie and started to paint (not roll) in all the corners and edges. I felt very positive and even Rob looked a little bit impressed with my efforts.

Then I got down to the nitty gritty; the rolling part. I felt a bit smug, this was going to be easy, a mornings job and I could still get on with filling the receding well hole in the middle of the veg patch, which I had lost my right leg in back at the beginning of the summer, and down which most of our onion crop had vanished.

What an achieving day.

Well, perhaps not. Here I am, having finished layer number one, realising that there is no way on earth I won't get away with another one, unless I want to go for the very rustic sponged look. As well, I am covered from head to toe in paint, which makes me look as if I have some rare dermitological condition. My hair is also speckled, resembling an extremely bad case of dandruff. The sodding paint won't dry quickly, which means the dogs have actually cast an evil spell on me and Puff is driving me crazy scratching at the window and meowing pathetically. There's no point clearing myself or the mess up until I get the second layer done and it has now been officially confirmed that watching paint dry is not a fulfilling occupation.

As well as all this, the contrast between the peachy coloured walls, and the skirting board, picture rail and all the wooden bits of the downstairs corridor, is now shockingly obvious (the bright orange used to detract from the terrible state of the woodwork) which means that I shall have to invest in several pots of gloss, and somehow get that on without attracting any remaining spiderwebs or dog hair or general dust. I know from past experience that this is almost impossible. The gloss has a special magnetic effect when it comes to any filth. It also means another day traumatising all the animals.

Frankly, I've lost the will to live.