From the moment the brunette twin started planning her bedroom, she talked about painting some furniture. She was excited about getting her own room because she had a gazillion decorating ideas.
The big one was to DIY her furniture. She had a color scheme in mind. We searched garage sales, second hand stores and online sites until we found a cabinet for her room. It was an old armoire with some wear and tear. It was perfect for a DIY, furniture paining project.
Yesterday she primed the armoire. She plotted her color scheme over and over again. She woke up this morning and spent most of the day painting in the garage. Some colors required two coats while others required three. She was meticulous, even using a cotton swab to paint corners. When she was done, it was beautiful.
Uncle Dave came over to help move the old dresser down the stairs. The first thing he said when he saw her armoire was "Wow, it's beautiful." The second thing he said was "I don't think it will fit up your staircase."
I nearly cried. Of all the things we thought about when it came to picking furniture, the size wasn't on the list. We did a quick once-over when we saw things to decide if it would work or not. We did not measure anything.
It would have fit up most staircases without a problem. Ours has a sharp turn as you go up. The first two stairs face South. The rest of the staircase heads East. We have had problems with the turn before. When we bought our Queen bed box springs we found a company that made one that came in two pieces. The manager told us it was a common problem in older houses.
Uncle Dave was right. It did not fit up the stairs. He tried to get it into the basement, but it wouldn't go down those stairs either. I was so upset. I couldn't look at the brunette twin for fear I would cry, which was fine because she stared straight at the television, not reacting at all. She wouldn't make eye contact with anyone.
After Uncle Dave and Josh left, we watched the end of the movie. She sat next to me, saying over and over again that she wasn't going to paint any more furniture. She said she was so proud of her work. It was her design and hers alone. My eyes welled up as I held her, but I managed not to cry. If she wasn't going to cry, neither was I.
About 30 minutes after she went to bed, the brunette twin came downstairs in tears. All her frustration and anger came out in a tear tidal wave. She cried until she was dry. We talked about finding a replacement for her next DIY project, but she wasn't quite ready to discuss it yet. She was still mourning today's lost project.
Tomorrow might be better, but I'd bet it will take a few days until she really wants to consider another project. When we get there, you can be certain it will be with a tape measure in hand. I won't repeat my stupid mistake twice.