You may remember a few weeks back when I set out to paint our hall (and entryway). It's just about finished (we're just waiting on a small order from Snapfish to fill our barren frames), but the key here is that I painted nearly three weeks ago.
Anywho, I went to see my hair stylist today and as soon as I sat down, she asks, "So, what were you painting?"
"How'd you know?"
She picked through my hair, making me feel like a monkey, and pulled out a few teensy tiny paint flecks. "It's right here."
Sad, but true. Fancy-pants shampoo doesn't wash out paint. This has been a public service announcement from the girl who will now wear headgear while painting.
Amber totally called me out on that when I painted our front door black. I felt like the dirty kid in school.
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