Although there was still plenty of work left to do, the stage (i.e., house) was set for the inaugural Bushwick Rocks! indie rock concert / combined birthday party / Fotophile.com photography show / housewarming party.
It was nice not to care about a mass of people possibly "ruining" the ugly green linoleum tile floor, but the walls had not been painted in who knows how long. So, with three days to go, I set upon a late-night painting marathon that took me into the wee hours of Thursday morning.
Breaking open the five-gallon container of Kilz Original primer, I soon gained a new understanding of the company's branding: It smelled like petrochemical death. Donning a respirator, I went on to apply two — in some cases, three — coats of primer, then promptly forgetting about the odor.
Until I was done.
The smell was akin to gasoline, but not quite as sweet. (I actually enjoy the scent of service stations.) Thankful to have closed the bedroom door, I was able to go to sleep without asphyxiating.
The following day, when friends Gillian, Ryan and Karen showed up to hang their photographs for the visual part of the Saturday-night celebration, the olfactory offender was absent. The good news was that the Kilz did a fine job of covering up the discoloration on a wall that was in rough shape.
At least now I realize why low-VOC paint exists.
1 comment:
I also love the smell of gas stations. Reminds me of going places as a kid.
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