Dumb, then Scary.
I picked a summer vacation morning to repaint interior trim.
It must have been the sugar rush from the cinnamon rolls my son baked for breakfast.
Who paints interior trim when 5 children are home?
Me on sugar. Dumb.
So now? Now I sit and bellow, "OUT", every time one of my poor children tries to poke their head in the door.
I'm a Gorgon, wild hair and all, frightening my children.
Can I compare pristine white trim to Pegasus leaping out of my neck? I'm floundering here.
So I'm stuck with Scary. For at least another hour, until the trim dries.