Some of you may remember that about two months ago, I bought some chairs at an estate sale with the intention of refurbishing them. My first post, detailing the steps of my inaugural attempt at beating these chairs into submission, can be found here.
Today, we have Part II of the tale.
51. Ask your husband what he wants to do on this beautiful Saturday. Ignore him when he says what he wants to do is go fly fishing.
52. Bribe him with promises of snacks and beer to help you work on your chairs with you, which have been sitting, dormant, on the porch.
53. Quickly FaceTime your mom, who agrees that the chairs need to get finished, but mostly just because "they look so tacky sitting on your porch."
54. Decide she's right. Make another list. Go to Lowe's.
55. Promise to behave. Break said promise. Hide behind the ladders and jump out at a man who you think is your husband, but isn't.
56. Quickly ponder what going to jail would be like.
57. Arrive home with the supplies in tow. Lay out newspaper and realize what an undertaking this is going to be.
58. "Listen" to your husband read the instructions aloud on the back of the bottle of paint stripper.
59. Make a whole bunch of stripper jokes and dance seductively around your porch.
60. Listen to your husband tell you he's not helping if all you're going to do is spaz around the porch while he does the work.
61. Actually listen to him talk about how to use the paint stripper.
62. Laugh bitterly to yourself at the phrase "WORKS THE FIRST TIME!" featured underneath the product title, as you have already tried this product without your husband and it did not, in fact, work the first time. All it did was eat your sponge brush until you were painting with a stump.
63. Examine the photo on the front. What exactly are they trying to peel up?? Instant mashed potato flakes?? Did somebody have a house party that got out of control?
64. Glove up so this stuff doesn't eat through your skin.
65. Apply a thick layer of Goof Off to two chairs and wait for twenty minutes. Watch in amazement as the paint starts to bubble up. Loudly complain that it didn't do that last time.
66. Listen to your husband tell you that's because you used a sponge brush and not a paintbrush.
67. Know he's right, but don't tell him.
68. After twenty minutes, start scraping the paint off. This would be a good time to realize that though this project is labor-intensive, this particular part is your OCD dream come true:
69. Since your husband has so deftly completed this step, grab the paint scraper and go for it on your own chair.
70. Realize with sadness that your husband is simply better at this than you are, but do not be deterred.
71. Scrape until you want to cut both your arms off. Then go back over the spots that aren't coming off with more Goof Off. Then scrape some more. Scrape, scrape, scrape. When you think you want to die, scrape some more.
72. Think that you are done because you've lost your will to live.
73. Agree when your husband decides you should buff the first two chairs, then repeat the scraping process on the last two.
74. Silently scream to yourself as he lays out clean newspaper and you get started on round two.
75. As you start applying what seems like the fortieth round of Goof Off, look over to discover your husband has reached new levels of anal and is now scraping the tiny little crevices with dental tools.
76. Decide your husband is pretty awesome.
77. Keep scraping. Try not to throw up when you come across a dried Band-Aid next to a single dried Golden Graham on the underside of a chair.
78. Definitely don't think about why the Band-Aid and Golden Graham are next to each other. Put it out of your mind. And don't eat either.
79. Wonder if you should take all the paint off, or if the distressed look is kind of cool on its own.
80. Because you're musing instead of scraping, accidentally drop some Goof Off on your thigh.
81. Scream in horror because your "SKIN IS GONNA MELT OFF JORDAN HELP ME RIGHT NOW."
82. Watch your husband help you while LOLing, because this stuff definitely doesn't take your skin off.
83. Ask him why he made you be so careful, then.
84. Listen as he explains that it can be dangerous if mis-handled.
85. Stew in silence over being treated like a 5-year-old, then remember you did actually did drop what is basically poison on yourself, so shut up and decide he was right.
86. Conclude that the chairs are better in their "distressed" form, rather than in their original paint-less form. Once you scrape all that gunk off, of course.
87. Get distracted by an article called "Broccoli Rabe Dreams Big," which describes how vegetables have marketing directors. VEGETABLES. As in, if a vegetable is "hot" right now, the marketing people will promote it on talk shows and ask celebrities to endorse it. A VEGETABLE. I can't.
88. Get back on track and finish the chairs. Look at your work. Decide it's pretty good.
89. Look at your shoes. Look at all the paint you've gotten stuck to them. Realize your husband has been doing this in bare feet for this exact reason, but has failed to pass that advice along.
90. Remind yourself to thump him in the head later.
91. Step back, assess, and pat yourself on the back. Listen as your husband tells you he's proud of you for working so hard.
92. Set the chairs back in their corner of the porch to wait until next time, when we'll be putting the foam backing on. There will be a staple gun involved.
93. Let your mind run wild with the possibilities of how you could, and probably will, injure yourself.