Well, I'm at it again. Painting furniture that it. However, this time, inspired by a post from Lindsay at Living with Lindsay, I'm painting a laminate dresser. I've had the dresser for about 8 years and I've thought it was hideous for exactly that long. My grandmother purchased it for me when I moved out of the dorms and into my first apartment in college. Did she know I thought it was ugly? No way. She took me to a furniture store and told me to pick what I like, but plagued by fierce independence and reluctance to accept charity, I made sure to choose the absolute cheapest thing I could find that would serve the function I needed. So now, 8 years later, I really want a NEW dresser, but I'm also obsessed with painted furniture, so I figured why not? I forgot to take before pictures, but I'll be sure to post after pictures. Right now I'm at the step in the instructions where I'm supposed to let the primer dry for 7 days. Auugh! I do NOT like to wait an entire week when I have a bee in my bonnet. And I'm not loving my plastic-drawer replacement while my dresser is in the basement.
This painting experience is almost a perfect metaphor for my life right now. My life has been signed over to the US Army by my association with my husband. However, I do not yet have a military ID, nor have I been given power of attorney by said husband. What this means to the Army? I can do ABSOLUTELY NOTHING to help facilitate our move (or PCS- see I can learn the lingo). It is aggravating to have to rely on Jason for this. I've always been in charge of moving, and until the Army gets back to him, I don't even know what day they are going to come pack us up. This means I can't schedule carpet cleaners, a maid service (because I have enough to worry about), or turning off certain utilities. I can't schedule our lease check-out.
Being out of control is really not my favorite status, nor is having to depend on others whose priorities may differ from mine (yeah, so what if he's exhausted after PT and a full day of school). But this is my life, so I'm just going to sit here until the paint dries and I can pick up my brush and roller and get back to work.
Wow, I just realized that stress causes me to write some pretty poorly constructed sentences. Oh well, I refuse to apologize for this.