Friends: Good. Sanding: Bad
Erika and Nick came over last weekend to help me get the painting party started.
Nick was especially expert at showing me how to prime the walls, the order to apply the paint, potential pitfalls, etc. He and Erika worked their fingers to the bone priming my bedroom and hallway. Nick even rigged together an instrument for edging the high ceilings. Very creative.
I discovered that it's virtually impossible to prime over magic marker, which the little girl who previously lived in the guest room used in the hallway. I also learned how much I hate sanding. I did the world's crappiest job patching the walls in the living room and man, did I pay. By the time I finished sanding, I was ready to tear my hair out.
The cats now have their own room, the small green back bedroom that eventually will become my office. They enter willingly, then wail and cry until I release them many hours later. Surprisingly, they don't run through the house when I let them out--they just sit there in the room and stare at me. Apparently they don't care that they're trapped; they just want to be where the action is.
After Erika and Nick left on Sunday, I tested the cats by letting them out sooner than I thought I should. Within five minutes, Tug had gotten primer on his nose, and Nanuq jumped on a freshly painted windowsill. So much for freedom.