In case you were wondering

This is how the bathroom painting is going:

I'm a masochist

Sorry to leave some of you hanging. I only have 7 minutes to complete this post. Jack is about to wake up, the nanny is on her way, and I have to make a 2:10 matinee with Sadie. Sing it with me: your life is so hard, play your tiny violin!

Here are the contents of the shipping container I received last week from the marvy uchida marker company:

One watercolor marker

One surprisingly heavy catalog

One ball of scrunched up brown craft paper

Why that needed to be sent in a refrigerator box, beats me. Maybe they didn't want the marker to feel claustrophobic. Maybe that's why the mf-er won't work on my bathroom walls. Because it's just too durn small.

Don't go in there!

Shitsticks. This does not bode well. I ordered a marker. This is what arrived via fedex. It's roughly the size of a shipping container. I'm too afraid to open it. This whole project has been doomed from the start. I mean, maybe it'll be a nice kind of surprise. Like maybe what's in that box, is a whole new bathroom, or a replicant of Jack who is already potty trained, and likes to rub my feet.

I'm about to board a plane for San Francisco, where I'm shooting the wedding of the dear Ms. Hopper, and her un-bride husband to be. My heart can't handle one more crack, pre-flight. I've never spent more than 12 hours away from Jack, and I'm a little concerned that my sobbing might disrupt the wedding ceremony. Just kidding, I'll wear a muzzle. However, if I was to break my wrist, smashing my fist through the bathroom wall, all would be lost. So for now, the jinx stays in the box.

Wish me luck, and stuff.

Highland Park 10:36 a.m.

Me: on the computer, entering my credit card number as fast as my piggy fingers can fly.

Nipper Knapp, panther like, suddenly at my shoulder: "whatcha buying?"

Me, caught, casual as possible: "Another paint pen"

Nipper hangs his head

Me: "you took a vow", pat on the back, pat on the back, pat on the back

Nipper: "not a paint pen vow"

Did I mention I bought another one at Michael's yesterday, but in a fine point, because that's all they had, because I wanted see if it was all silver markers, or just mine that totally don't work? By the way, it's just mine. The new one works just fine. SO now I have, two not working markers, and one that works just fine, but not in the width that I need. SO, like any sane person, I ordered another one. But this time, I ordered it straight from the Marvy Uchida marker company in beautiful downtown Torrance California. I'm like Daniel Day Lewis in The Last of the Mohicans, "I WILL FIND YOU". This bathroom is going to be romantic like that.

Merde

I wish I knew how to say uh-oh in a few other languages. The drama of the unpainted bathroom continues. After all the back and forth between me and nice people at the durable supply company, about the silver marker, my woes continue.

With a whole lot of wiggling the marker does in fact work, but just barely. The gold marker that I purchased at the same time, glides right across paper, and the watercolor comes out evenly. The silver marker comes out in fits and spurts, and only if you press with all your might, and the sponge nib flakes off into the paint. Not pretty. I would need a bionic arm to finish the tiny bathroom at this rate, and I'm afraid it would still look like mierda.

As I was painting, the nannny came in with Jack, to inform me that the sandbox he'd been playing in all day was filled with cat poop. FILLED WITH IT. Not to be histrionic, but, kill me now.