While innocently shopping and brunching with my girlfriend, I found an apron. Not one to actually wear protective gear while cooking (and really, who am I kidding – Scott makes the grub in this casa), I thought, How perfect! I’ll wear this when I paint. Omg, it’ll be soso cute! Done. The black and yellow stole my heart (a favorite color combo, with my family being from Pittsburgh), and the $15 clearance price, from Anthropologie no less, made the decision easy. But, you see, this seemingly simple choice spawned a series of events that not even I could imagine would happen. (Luckily, said events weren’t strenuous, nor did they create any oh-no-moments.)
It started with this thought: where would my apron go? My psychotic tendencies means that everything in our home has… well, a home. And we didn’t want a homeless apron. So it only made sense that I also purchase a hook. And for $3, this clearance knob (while not a hook), made it to the checkout line, too.
Excited to show Scott the day’s finds, he – pulling a Kim, smarty pants! – wanted to know where the hook would go. Well, duh, I said. Naturally, it’ll hang to the left of the kitchen window, within arm’s reach of my painting table, next to the fridge.
In turn, another problem was created. Those curtains were bulky, and we surely didn’t want them hiding my pretty, frilly apron. After all, the black and yellow must shine in the room! That apron will make the room! So, down the curtains came.
But, gosh. Remember that time we painted the kitchen and we didn’t bother with the window casing? Actually, come to think of it, in the two colors this kitchen has seen, we’d never once painted inside the sill. Remaining there was the last bit of contractor’s beige in our home. That is, until, our paint came out.
And then we were almost ready. Because, of course, I couldn’t just leave the knob as-is. After a makeover with white and coral paint (plus a spritz of satin sealer), it seemed we were in business. And because the original intent of my apron hook was actually a drawer knob, we crossed our fingers in the hopes that a regular ol’ anchor would accept the fine threading. This meant a preliminary puncture with the fattest screw in our Grandpa Jar, but phew. It worked.
The apron that started it all is happy. (Me too.) And while he doesn’t care why or how, our little man’s favorite people-watching-perch is no longer constricted by curtain views.
The funny (or maybe not-so-funny) thing is that I forgot to wear it during my last painting session. I mean… I just… I don’t know. Just plain slipped my mind. Huh. But it sure is cute, and I’m thinking it does, indeed, make the room! At least, that’s the story I’m sticking to.
Y’all can relate, yeah? Let’s hear about your project that started a project that started that other project.