The Painting Project: Lovely, But NOT Dark Brown!

Within the past few weeks, my husband picked up a gallon of paint at a local hardware store. He pointed out the darkest shade of brown to the paint mixer guy, which was the color we wanted. 

On this day, with several good drying days coming up, we got out the paint and discovered . . . this is NOT dark brown! In fact, it is quite red. It was even redder when it came out of the can, wet. It's darkened some since it dried.

Two years ago, the latest tree fell on our house and deck. It took out a bunch of the deck railing and some of our roof. The insurance company sent somebody out to survey the devastation, we got a couple of guys over to remove the tree (accomplished in a few hours), we patched the roof, and then we contacted somebody about the deck repair.

The contractor who finally agreed to come out (most would not take on such a "small" project) gave us an estimate, told us they'd order the stuff, and asked that we have a specific amount of cash on hand for the actual labor.

Then they never showed up, and never called us back. We tried a few others but eventually gave up after frustrating phone tag games. I don't know what luck YOU have had with contractors, but ours has sucked. So we've never gotten the deck repaired.

So fast forward to: the present. My husband bought the can of paint, and we agreed that on Saturday and Sunday, we would scrape and paint the deck bench at least. My husband, a seasoned painter, assured me that HE wanted to do all of the painting. That was fine with me. It didn't seem too big a project.

So in the morning, I went for my walk. When I got back, the paint can, chairs, a cooler, brushes of all sizes, and all kinds of scraping and sweeping devices were laid out on the deck waiting for me. So I helped with the scraping and the brushing. We had masks available but did not use them.

Shortly after 1, my husband opened the can of paint. But wait! What! WHAT? This is not the color we ordered! What to do? It is not brown! It is actually sort of reddish, and it is called "bordeaux." Since we'd already done the prep work, we didn't know what to do - so went ahead and painted!

Or rather, he did. For a little while. Then he allowed that he might want a little help from me to paint the detail work, with a smaller brush. So I got out a smaller brush and started doing all of the edges of things.

And finally, I was down on the deck floor, on my belly, under the deck bench, painting all of those railings you see behind the bench. Do you see them? Each one has four skinny sides.

The interior sections must be painted while crouching UNDER the deck bench. I was under there, crouching, kneeling, then lying on my back, absolutely miserable, praying for the Second Coming! Jesus, come get me, and take me away!!!!

We worked on the deck bench painting project from about 9:45 in the morning until 5:15, when I tidied everything up and we cleaned the brushes and headed in, done for the day. We saved a bit of paint for touch-up work the following day.

We were both tired and sore, and glad we had only committed to doing the deck BENCH and not the whole DECK itself, which would be hours and hours more. And we laughed to remember that one year, our much younger selves painted the whole deck one day, sealed the drive way the next day, and then went backpacking the next! Ha!

Of course, I'd ruined the shirt I didn't expect to be painting in. I'm lucky I didn't ruin the pants too. (Of course, you HAVE to wear pants or you'll be eaten alive by the mosquitoes, which are plentiful and thirsty; or as Waylon Jennings might say, "lonesome, on'ry, and mean.")

I am writing this posting on the next morning, and I woke up sore in strange places. (Hey, isn't that a song?) We opened the deck door curtains and looked out at the new color. We agree that it is quality paint (it is Behr), and that it went on beautifully, smooth as silk. We also still agree that it is not DARK BROWN!

I posted photos on Facebook this morning, and shared our tale of woe. We picked a color. This isn't it. But this color is actually sort of lovely, almost cherry. I am reminded of a local friend who painted one wall red in her living room as a dramatic conversation piece. Maybe we should think of it like that!

What follows is an Actual Marital Conversation.
Me: I posted photos on Facebook. It's definitely the WRONG color, but everybody loves it!
Husband: I could schedule a wedding and the wrong girl could show up. She might be pretty, but she's still the WRONG girl! I'm calling the manager tomorrow!

So there you go. This morning, we finish up the gallon by doing touch-up work. Tomorrow, he calls the manager. (What would be a reasonable request?) I can send them photos, and for sure, I plan to do that. We don't know what we will do next.

Maybe nothing. Maybe STAIN the deck floor. If we order another gallon of paint just like the last one, will it even match? Is our paint guy color-blind? Inquiring minds want to know. I have so many questions, but so few answers!

Buy a house in the country, they said.
It'll be easy living, they said.
Hmmph!, I say!
Easy living, my a**!
Next time, THEY can buy the paint!

I was thinking of two soundtrack songs, so here they both are. First, here is a song for the girl who was not going to do ANY of the painting, who did the detail work and the interior railings on her knees, praying for the Second Coming: Gillian Welch and Alison Krauss, with I'll Fly Away. And here's another one, this one for the girl who's sore in strange places: Garth Brooks, with I'm So Sore In Strange Places, um, I mean, I've Got Friends in Low Places.