Surgeon, Not Painter

My husband is a surgeon, not a painter.

Every time we embark on a painting project I have to tell myself (silently) that it will need to be done twice. The first time my DrH will do it, thinking that he is contributing and doing me a favor. The second time I will do it while he is at work and fix all the mistakes and tell him what a great job he did.

We are in the process of making our 1970's bathroom look more modern using only paint and a new shower curtain, because that is all the budget can afford and even that is a stretch. One of the most dramatic ways to make an old room look new again is to paint the ceiling. You would be surprised at how dingy a ceiling can get, and you only notice how bad it is when you put up new white ceiling paint. It looks great, except for those spots that DrH missed that I now need to go back and correct.

I try to remember that he is a competent person and hold my tongue when I want to tell him how to do things. I made a subtle suggestion last night while he was painting to try to get closer to the edges that he already cut in. He told me he thought those places had already dried and that is why the color looked a little off. OK. I also try to remember that he has significantly less experience with paint than I do. I remind myself that his last painting project (our bedroom closet that has been a pink color for 5.5  years) did turn out well, and I wasn't too concerned because most of the wall space would be covered up with clothes and boxes. Deep breaths.

Now I need to go back into that bathroom and take care of all the spots he missed, and while I am there I might as well just paint the entire ceiling one more time.