There’s Been a Cover Up

Forgive the mess (Tracey won’t but I’m in the poo anyway so…).

I’m feeling a little unappreciated at the moment.

I just spent two days preparing and painting the dining room and, after all that effort, I am not getting any tradie sex.

Tracey recently decide the inside of the house needed a freshen up so we did what every couple in Gympie with an old Queenslander does in these situations: we attended all the open houses for three weeks for ideas.

Because no ones house ever – EVER – looks as good as it does when you’re trying to sell the place.

Ultimately, Tracey decided on white. Although as anyone who has decided to paint a wall white knows, that wasn’t the end of this little journey.

“Which white?” the lady at Bunnings asked me.

“Sorry?”

“Which white do you want?”

“I’ll be right back.”

I drove home and got Tracey.

Not that this solved anything really. Half an hour later we were snapping at each other to please just make a bloody decision, because neither of us wanted to take responsibility for spending $250 on the wrong non-colour.

It was 15 litres of Snowy Mountain (half) which eventually made it to the checkout with us. Not so much because of it’s outstanding whitiness as because we both tried to sing a bar of Rocky Mountain High when we came across it which gave us a bit of a giggle. 

“That’s got to be a good sign,” I told Tracey.

As it turned out it wasn’t.

The dining room, as you’ll see in the photos, looks fresh & fantastic with the new curtains and blind we went back for today. I even painted the window and door frames so they didn’t clash, planning to redo them and the doors in a full gloss paint once I’ve finish all the walls. 

“I love it so much,” said Tracey when she arrived home from taking the girls to gymnastics.

I suggested to the kids they go to bed early because, I said, we’ve got a big weekend ahead – we don’t, but they don’t know that.

I glanced over at my wife expecting a sly smile of understanding.

Instead, she was staring upset over my shoulder.

Then her expression quickly changed to…what was that? I’ve not seen that one for a while. Let me think…oh, I know! 

Her expression changed to LIVID.

Behind me, one of our daughters was pointing at the door frame leading to our bedroom.

“Hey,” Miss9 cried out, squinting and leaning into the now lovely white wood, “where are all our heights?”

Didn’t even notice them. Should have gone to Specsavers. Luckily Miss15 hasn’t grown in five or six years, so her’s will be spot on. Four to go.
Let there be LIGHT
Let there be LESS LIGHT
Let there be NO LIGHT. And probably no sexy time either. Dammit.

Big Family Little Income

Raising a family on little more than laughs

1 Comment

  • Omg! My jaw actually dropped! ?
    I have an old cupboard which desperately needs a coat of paint but also which I cannot paint due to the height markers of many children & now the grandies as well.
    My eldest outgrew the cupboard at about 14, 10 years ago, and it was around a while before that. I’ll live with it’s grubbiness cause those little marks are so special.
    Definitely no tradie sex for you!

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