If I have never mentioned the issue of ugly wallpaper in excessive amounts all over our house... ask and I will tell. But I think I have mentioned it to almost everybody.
So, in December one night while Scott was putting Emily to sleep, I was using the downstairs half bath. I hate the wallpaper in there, and was thinking I should just go ahead and pull it off. So when Scott walked downstairs and turned the corner, there I stood. Halfway out the door. Hands full of sheets of wallpaper. Grinning that "I'm so in trouble" grin. He merely says, "What did you do" with a stunned look.
It came off so easily. I am going to take care of it. Don't worry, I know you don't have time to mess with it. It's the smallest room in the house, how hard can it be?
Very, Very, Very, hard.
The paper was stuck with adhesive directly to the drywall with no sealant to protect the wall. So after I spent hours and hours of sanding to get the adhesive off, I painted and it went through the particle board, and bubbled. I was frustrated and very upset.
And this is where Scott is wonderful. He took over in there, and for the past few weeks has been sanding, and re-sealing, adding joint compound, sanding more, priming, and finally painting. The walls look like brand new. Beautiful. He puts in a new light fixture, toilet paper roll holder, towel holder, and all he has left to do is prime the base boards and paint them white. He tapes (very meticulously, Adam knows this about him) and primes all afternoon. I leave right after dinner for craft night at church and when I get home I expect that he probably would have gone ahead and painted the baseboards after Emily went to bed.
I walk in the house and he just points to the bathroom. I walk in and there is finger marks and brush marks in white, all over the beautiful green walls. He had taken off the door to get the door frame (meticulous, remember?) and Emily had gone in while he was doing the dinner dishes, which I left for him, and and painted the wall white.
Did he get mad? No. He was just worried that the scrubbing on Em's hands to get the paint off was going to hurt. He seriously had the patience of a saint. I wish I was cool like that.