Drop-Cloth

And so yes I told the landlady, I would paint over the red wall, the one wall in the bedroom that was red. Yes, I would paint the wall, cover up the red prior to vacating the premises. It was a deposit thing. Yes. And well, the wall was pretty red.

So yeah, I purchased all the materials and piled them on an old bed-sheet in the middle of the room where the bed used to be. Paint, stir-sticks, roller-handle, roller-cover, and a couple of brushes. I figured two coats.

Well, it took three coats. To cover it up, the red on the wall in the bedroom. It was a tidy affair, the first two coats, The third coat did the trick, but I could have rolled out a fourth. Coat.

“This wall,” she said. “I want to paint this wall.”
“That wall?” I said.
“This wall, red,” she said.
‘That wall red,” I said.
“This red,” she said. “Fire-engine red.”
“Fire-engine red,” I said.
“We can do it together,” she said. “paint the wall red.”
“Red together, this wall,” I said.
“The wall next to the baby’s room,” she said.
“Adjacent to, the baby’s room,” I said.
“The power!” she said. “The power of red, as a color.”
“Next to the baby’s room?” I said.
“We can move the bed back,” she said.
“Back from the wall,” I said
“The power,” she said. “That’s what you say, right?”
“Back from the wall?” I said
“Red,” she said. “The power.”
“Some power,” I said.

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