Bud Light and Microwave Rice

The Land of Accomplishments

That isn't a filter. Broadlands is just yellow.

Son of a bitch, I've done it! I bought a house. A small, one bedroom home nine miles from the nearest fuel station. The garage is larger than the house, the yard is void of any trees, the roof doesn't leak and it came with all of the necessary appliances.
Full of new pride and still not being able to buy my own alcohol, my desires to do some house work are greater than they will ever be again.

72 seconds is fine. 74 seconds is bad.

I spend my next few weeks basking in every inch of the 650sq ft of the home I now own. Writing up lists and making dreams of future projects, moving things around to see what looks the best, cleaning, more unpacking, more to-do lists. Liberated with my efforts, I'd end every night with six cold Bud Lights and any variant of Uncle Ben's microwaveable rice. It was a good time to be me.

Commence Bad Decisions

If you're anything like me, you have to destroy perfectly functional things because you just don't like them. Begin every mistake I've ever made as a homeowner: now. The glory days are over. Yellow walls are bothering me. Dark wooden trim causes a contrast that burns my eyes. And who the fuck put blue carpet in there? So now we start the fun things! Kind of.

Gross.

Simple concept I suppose.
-tear out the old
-put the floor in(jumped the gun a little)
-paint what stays
-cut some holes
-cut other holes
-patch the previous ones
-add some lights
-move some wires
-put in some switches
-DONE

Ahhh, the fruits of my labor.

Great! Now I have a dope new living room that looks as fancy and shiny as I wanted. Now lets do it to the bedroom.

Again, standard things here.

Pokeball.

-tear out the old
-paint what stays
-oh shit

At this point I realized the images in my head are not going to work out. Keeping the bead board and the chair rail white while painting the upper section a dark red. I've made a major mistake. Now I have no carpet, no trim, and my bedroom looks like a fucking pokeball. With no better options I call in a professional. By professional, I mean Soozie. She picks the colors for things around the office I work in. Her immediate response was "Irish spring green. Its like grey with green and yellow". I politely thanked her for her time, and went back to the drawing board.

Everytime.

With my head hung low, feeling completely defeated by everything that has happened in the past 24 hours, I go to Lowes to look at the paint swatches. Immediately the guy bombards me with "Would you like help choosing a color!?" I informed him he wanted no part of this mess, to which he denied. So, we are, walking in circles like two drunk girls looking for an ear ring. "This one, or this?" he would ask every two seconds. At this point I was just entertaining his complete dedication to my issue. An actual hour goes by and he says "Alright, this is the one you want." He hands it to me and I'm seriously impressed. It was perfect. Except one issue.
IT WAS IRISH SPRING GREEN!

Tries to be an adult; only owns beach towels

At this point I can only assume he has Soozie in his little stupid ear piece playing a joke or something. But no. He's some kind of paint whisperer. Little dude hooked me up with a gallon of that stuff and some new roller pan liners. Had my room looking like a grown ass man lived there by midnight. Finally, I can commence with flooring. Then a new door because the old one had gold glitter on it. Some trim work, and boom. My room is looking real fresh.

Well, that is the end of my normal home improvement. It gets weird from here. Weird, bad, cold, itchy, really annoying, and a hint of defeat. I'm getting sad thinking about it. I need a beer.