GETTING PLASTERED

My bathroom walls -- what were you thinking?


It started with horrific wallpaper -- amorphous pink flowers on a hunter green background-- that was so bad I ripped it off in the middle of the night once in a total fit of pique. Those flowers were screaming at me. LOUD.

Underneath the paper was an equally bad wall -- which meant that if I wanted to paint the bloody thing I'd have to skim coat it.


Skim coat, for the wall-challenged, is a thin coat of plaster material smeared over an existing wall in an effort to hide the divots and cracks that are endemic in older homes. 
Most people get professionals to do this sort of thing, but we've already established that I am not most people and of course, I set out to do it myself.


There was no room for my ladder in the bathroom so I ended up having to jam a small chair in there, or else stand on the toilet to reach other sections. I own one of those industrial type extension poles, the types that fit into paint rollers, so I was able to hit most of it.

I said most of it.


It was getting late and I was getting very tired, so I resorted to using a wooden spoon as a catapult, lobbying large hunks of the stuff towards the wall and then flattening it with my extended contraption.


That went well until the very last one -- which of course I'd loaded up well as the whole thing was wearing very, very thin.

As if in slow motion, the blob sailed in a neat arc straight at the wall and the bulk of it stuck, but a marble sized piece separated from the original and following that same arc, fell back down and... BLAM!!!


You got it.


Right on top of my head.   There are no photos. You will just have to imagine.


Amen, and pass the mustard.