Am I Being Punk'd?

Do you ever walk into some one's house and they say "Oh, excuse the mess", but after looking around for a minute you're sort of disappointed that that's what they consider a mess. If I can see a square foot of the floor, it's clean. Don't taunt me with your "mess".

I'm totally one of those people.

But when I say "excuse my mess" I've actually spent the whole day cleaning and our house is probably the cleanest it's been since the last time I had people over.

The reality is, I'm really, really good at power cleaning. I mean like, scraping the peanut butter and jelly off the floor in 12 seconds flat. I'm THAT good.

So when I decided to invited some new friends over to my house, I had a minor stroke at the pressure of having a clean house. 

STEAM CLEAN THE CARPETS.

CLEAN THE WINDOWS.

SELL THE CHILDREN.

The one thing that was really irritating me about our house is our kitchen walls.

We have a black kitchen table and chairs, which means every time the chair or table touches the wall it leaves a black mark on our wall. And for some reason Little S's favorite thing to do is to pull out the kitchen chairs as vigorously as possible and ram it into the wall, leaving our entire dining nook covered in black markings.

So since Big S was home sick (he spent the entire night prior to this doing the typical man's *cough cough overly-dramatic-moan* every 15 minutes) I put him to work covering up the marks on the wall. There was extra paint downstairs, all he had to do was take a little brush and paint over the marks.

This is what I came home to:

Really? 

First, he covered up the marks with bright white paint.

Then, when he realized the paint color was wrong he scrubbed it off so hard it unveiled the base color.

Turns out, the correct color was rusted out from not having a lid on it, so he went off to color match the correct paint.

Bear in mind, this is about 3 hours before I have people coming over.

So an hour later, he comes home with the right paint, they spent 30 minutes making sure it was the right match.

He even bought a paint brush so I didn't have to use one of Little S's water color paint brushes, which was my original plan (my hero!).

So I lay down some towels and go to town on the scratches.

Anddddddddd the paint is yellow.

So close; but so, so off.

APPARENTLY he took the wrong paint to get matched.

So now it's about 2 hours until people are coming over and our kitchen has a huge mark of yellow paint over the white kitchen walls to cover up the black markings from our stupid kitchen table.

I kept glancing around.

Looking for a camera or something.

Or waiting for the laugh track to start.

Because I'm pretty sure this is the kind of thing you'd see on Everybody Loves Raymond.

Or Punk'd.

Where's Ashton? My inner 6th grader couldn't wait to meet him.

But he, weirdly, didn't show.

So I was stuck painting OUR ENTIRE KITCHEN an hour before we had friends over.

I'm muttering (really kind things) under my breath about Big S then following it up with an awkward group laugh simulation.

As I'm standing on a chair, attempting to do the edges of the ceiling with one of Little S's tiny water color brushes since we didn't have any painters tape because THIS WAS NOT MY PLAN.

It's cool. 

I'm not bitter about it.

I'm not mad.

I'm going to be totally mature about this.

And not post awkward pictures of him on my blog.

Because that would be totally immature.

M