About two weeks ago, I looked into the living room and decided I didn’t like the brick fireplace very much. My room is starting to come together, first with a light, sky blue paint for the walls, then a salsa red couch, a painting that my maternal grandmother bought years ago and I inherited and re-framed, as well as the rugs and throw pillows. It’s a north-facing room and I love the way the colors pull the limited outdoor light into the space.
I knew we did not have the time or money to redo the masonry and I’m not a huge fan in most instances of opaque-painted brick (I’ve seen a few examples where it goes right but wasn’t comfortable with the high probability that it would go wrong). Enter whitewashing: it lightens the brick but leaves the variation and texture intact. I spent a lot of time browsing DIY and decor blogs and sites, figured out a general plan, and tried to figure out a time to complete the project.
Then, one day, I randomly decided to go ahead and prep the area with tape and tarps. I’d planned to just do a test strip, but about two hours later, sent Arthur a text message with this picture:
I may have gotten a wee bit carried away.
So that evening, I finished the brick and painted the first coats on the mantel. By the end, what had originally looked like this:
Instead looked like this:
I’m still figuring out how to arrange everything on the mantel and such, but it really does brighten the room considerably.
It’s weirdly therapeutic to create a space for myself after so many years living in apartments and rentals. It’s also a huge change to start and finish a project where I have a fair amount of control over the outcome. I hadn’t realized how much the randomness of infertility treatments and the NICU (and the corresponding lack of control) had messed with my mind over the years.
Taking joy in creation is a wonderful new feeling.
This post is a part of Microblog Mondays. To read more or participate yourself, head over to Stirrup Queens! Thanks to Mel for originating and hosting.