Painting the Kitchen

Cowgrit has been wanting the kitchen repainted for a year or so. “When are you going to paint the kitchen?” she’d ask. “When am I going to get the time?” I’d respond.

The last time I painted the interior of our house (five years ago), she took the, then one and only, Calfgrit and went to see her brother for a week. I had five days with no interruptions. Painting is not something I can do quickly or easily, and I can’t have young kids running about underfoot. So this past weekend, Cowgrit gave me the time. I wouldn’t need five days to paint just the kitchen, but I’d need a weekend.

I don’t like painting. When our exterior needed painting last year, we hired professionals. I don’t like painting.

Saturday morning, she went to the store and picked out and bought the paint, and I prepped the work area. I moved the kitchen table, took down the blinds (five windows in that room!), removed the outlet and light switch panels, applied tape, moved the stand-alone extra cupboard, and gathered up the tools necessary for the operation.

The paint I applied last time was a faint yellowish – you could only tell it was yellow by comparing it to the original white I was painting over. We no longer have the paint can or color number, so Cowgrit had to guesstimate in picking the new color. When she showed me the swatch, it looked nice. Even looking at the paint in the can suggested it would look nice – just a little more yellow than the current color.

I set about applying it to the walls. I got about 20% of the total wall area covered in a first coat, and . . . it was yellow. Not a subtle daisy tint, but full on yellow. I also thought it had a slight green tinge to it. Cowgrit was starting to be concerned about it, but keeping the boys out of the kitchen kept her too distracted to really think much about it.

When I got about 40% of the area covered in a first coat, we were both surprised. Yellow. I said it was like a “happy sun” yellow (I just wanted to finish). She thought it was “oh my god” yellow. She wanted me to just stop painting.

We thought about it and talked it out for a few minutes. This color was not at all what she or I wanted or expected from looking at the swatch or seeing the paint in the can. But I explained that I could just finish the walls that I’ve started – the two main walls; the other two walls were mostly covered with cabinets. And leaving the main walls only partially coated with this yellow might make the next color look two-toned between being over this yellow and over the lighter original color. So we agreed I should finish the main walls I’d already started.

I finished the first coat and then went back and put on a second coat to make sure it was all even across the walls. A difficult thing about painting over a long day or two means that the lighting on the walls changes a lot. What might look well painted in evening can look thin and missed come the morning sun.

Fortunately, with the second coat, the color looked better. The old color showing through the first coat gave that greenish tint, but the second coat fixed that – made it solid bright yellow. Yellow.

I finished the walls and put everything back into place – blinds, furniture, fixtures. We both stood there looking at the room. It’s yellow. Not subtle, or a hint of color, but yellow. After a few minutes of looking at, having gotten more used to it, it’s actually not bad. I think once we were getting over the surprise of the drastic difference, we started to think of the yellow as friendly, like a “happy sun.”

We’ve even had a neighbor over for a few minutes, and she said it was nice and not at all as bad as we think. It is a pleasant shade of yellow. Cowgrit has said it might be starting to grow on her.

We’ve had 24 hours to live with it, now, and we’ve cracked jokes about it. “We don’t need to turn on the lights, now.” We don’t know yet if we’ll repaint, but if we do, the first opportunity won’t be for another two weeks. Maybe we’ll be over the shock by then.

Bullgrit