A weekend of productivity and supreme destruction

I can't help but insult the taste of the previous tenants of our apartment: every room had been painted the same lackluster color that lived somewhere between yellow and beige, but never made up its mind as to where it was -- it lived in a no-mans land with its indistinctness. It depressed me and was repainted before we even moved in.

But the bathroom had been left unassailed by their non-color. It was instead painted in a stark white -- not the kind of white that has a subtle hint of another color that casts a certain glow, but a white that is devoid of emotion and has no purpose being anywhere but a psych ward. While we managed to right the wrongness of the rest of the apartment, the bathroom had remained untouched for some time and was a source of some embarrassment for me.

I finally did something about it last weekend:

Before; blech

After; much cheerier!

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Notice that the missing light bulb in the 'after' shot. It was one of the many casualties from the painting operation. What this picture doesn't show you is a hole in the wall, and various fixtures laying on the ground in shambles around the corner.

During the second coat, I started to get lazy with adjusting the ladder and found myself stretching to get some final trim. I fell and took the towel bar, toilet paper dispenser, and part of a shelf with me. And then the light bulb exploded (yes, exploded!) while I was in the shower cleansing my wounds. At that point, I decided to give up on life for the day: I left everything, tiptoed around the shattered glass and made my way to the couch where I confined myself for the rest of the evening.