I spent the past weekend painting. I spent the weekend before this weekend painting. I like painting. You see, I've come to the conclusion that the belly is not getting any smaller, and panicked. This house will be painted before Rudolph makes her appearance. Paiting around the toilet in our bathrooms (I've got one bathroom left!) is quickly becoming not an option.
I've discovered something during the hours I've spent high on paint fumes - the most important thing I've ever learned is to properly clean a paint brush.
A college degree, a brain brimming over with useless facts, working knowledge of Microsoft Office suites later and the most important thing I know is something I learned in 7th grade art. That and I love my paint brush. When Zippy told me that my little paint brush (stolen from the art room when I was a senior in high school) was "broken" I almost cried. I couldn't imagine having to replace that brush. It'd be like finding a new leg. The replacement might work, but it just wouldn't be the same.
I wonder what my parental units would have said had I told them I wasn't going to college - I had already learned the most important thing I could ever learn - how to clean a paintbrush.
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I think I know HOW to clean a paint brush, but I would much rather toss it when I'm done and buy a new one the next time I'm going to paint. It's the Lori & Julia theory of grief to dollar ratio. I'll explain it soemtime.
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