I must say I've got the best fella in the world.
As some dear readers may remember, over the weekend the fridge was taken off life support and moved to hospice where it is slowly dying.
New fridge will arrive tomorrow. (And don't I feel like a grown up - all my kitchen appliances will match!)
So last night I mentioned to best fella that perhaps Monday night we could move the fridge out of its spot so that I might clean behind it and finish off the wallpaper.
There should be horror movie music played when those words are spoken.
Long, long ago there was a time called the 1980's. And many people thought that many things were stylish in that crazy mixed up muddled up time. When my brother bought this house, there it was....the wallpaper. They always meant to remove it, but as a busy working couple with two kids they just sort of became accustomed to it. (I think it mind-controlled them. Or their brains just couldn't cope and blocked it all out.)
The very first thing I did upon moving in was start stripping the wallpaper. Like some malevolent being, it had adhered itself so deeply into the grain of the wall that the paper would come loose with only the maximum amount of effort, leaving the glue behind. I tried every technique ever heard of - glue dissolving gel spray, didn't work. Vinegar, didn't work. Steam, didn't work. Screaming at the top of my lungs didn't work. Led Zep at full volume didn't work (but was fun).
In the end it was just me vs. the wallpaper. Womano y wallpapero. Hand to hand combat baby. Ripped off the paper, scraped off the glue, sanded down the walls, washed down the walls, spackled where the wallpaper had ripped great chunks of drywall out with it.
Three months it took me.
But the wallpaper had a small victory. I couldn't move the fridge and frankly, I didn't have the will to move the fridge.
My man did, however. He pulled that sucker out last night and cleaned the accumulated years of behind and under fridge grime.
He left the wallpaper exposed, knowing I had a spray can of Killz and a full gallon of green paint left over. I'm not ripping this stuff down, no sir. I'm entombing it. I don't care how many layers of paint it takes.
How awful is it?
Look if you dare. And picture my kitchen....16x12...one long wall and both side walls covered, floor to ceiling.
My wonderful fella knew that it was personal between me and the wallpaper and let it be. But he finished off the flooring with the new tiles I put down a few years ago.
And did a fine job.
Thor sez: What is this painting you speak of? May I help?