Job's A Good'un

Yesterday morning I had a sudden spurt of energy and decided to paint the skirting board and door surrounds in the bedroom.  Paul looked a bit dubious but fetched me the brushes, paint, dust sheet, etc. from the garage.

 “Make sure you mask everything off properly and don’t forget to have a bowl of warm, soapy water to wipe down the paint guard as you go.”
“Yes dear.”
“Be careful you don’t get any paint on the wallpaper or carpet.”
“No dear, leave me to it, I’ll be fine.”

I sanded the old paintwork down, hoovered up the dust, wiped it and carefully masked off the area to be painted.  It was quite tricky getting down low on the floor, my knees don’t bend like they used to.  It was while I was trying to get into a comfortable position that somehow I managed to move backwards and, quite elegantly, sit in the bowl of warm, soapy water.  The bowl tipped over and I was completely soaked.  So was the carpet.

I screamed and cursed.  Paul came into the bedroom, calmly picked up a paintbrush and did the job.  Perfect.