Firstly, this post comes with the express permission of my Boyfriend. Unlike GDC, he will not fire me for posting about a particular event.

Secondly, Michael is the handiest, greatest man guy in the world. He can fix anything, from a broken bracelet to an audio system in his car.

So, here is the story of which I referred to yesterday.

Saturday was beautiful. Michael, being cheerily handy, went to work on his car audio system. He's been acquiring all the peices for weeks, and has now begun the installation process. While he worked in the garage, I sat and watched T.V. TLC was having a 'Trading Spaces' marathon. PJ's, coffee, and TLC were the name of the game.

After ripping off a door panel and installing some very cool speakers, Michael came in energized. We watched some telly and then, without warning, he said, "You want me to start on the ceiling?"

It should be known that the tray ceiling in our apartment was the clincher for me. It's really pretty, and we decided to paint it red. That was three months ago. We've got the ladder, the paint, and brushes. I've been harping at him for weeks about it.
"So, when are we painting the ceiling?"
"Gee, the red in this pillow would be accented so nicely with a red tray ceiling!"
"Honey, my parents want the ladder back."

However, this Saturday, when Michael asked about the ceiling, I said, "Um. Sure. I guess." See, I was watching TLC and for him to have to paint the ceiling would require me moving to the bedroom or dancing around him with a paint pan. Neither sounded very good to me. But there goes Michael, off to the garage. He gets the tarp, the ladder, and the little paint pan. He begins working on the ceiling, and does a terrific job...for about ten minutes.

I'm dusting the coffee table, figuring I should do something for the house, when all of a sudden I hear, "Oh, F--k." I look up, and there is Michael, standing on the floor, surrounded in paint. Red paint. Everywhere. From the corner of the dining room to the tops of his favorite black Converse tennis shoes, I'm seeing red. I try not to laugh.

Beige carpet and red paint, my friends, are not easily separated. Michael and I discovered this after using: laundry detergent, dish soap, Goof Off, and Oxy-Clean. In the end, we have a pink carpet in the dining room. We've managed to cover most of it with a huge area rug.

While Michael fails to see the humor in this, I cannot help but chuckle. This is because Michael did something that normally, I'm famous for doing. He simply forgot the paint pan was on the ladder when he moved it. I've crashed into rocks while backing up his car. I've gotten stuck in traffic because I forget I'm driving a shift stick. Let's not forget, I get fired for being a big-mouth. And Michael stands by, and smiles, and says, "It's O.K., hon."

Well, it's my time now to say the same to him. The world is not going to end because we've repainted the floor instead of the ceiling. But he'll never hear the end of it.And I'll never stop telling him, "It's O.K., hon."
Now: Pictures!