The Great Redneck Room Swap of ’07

Clemntine is one of those people that you just adore, sight unseen. She makes you laugh because we’ve all been there. She tells a story in way that makes you pee your pants, but shout, "I KNOW!" And if you should ever meet her in person, she is just as wonderful. My friends, I give you the hilarity of Clemntine. As she says, "Hilarity ensues."

Early last August, I decided to pull the trigger on the Great Redneck
Room Swap ’07. We had a 4 bedroom house and 4 kids. TeenQueen (16) and
Pixie (almost 11) shared one room, WonderBoy (nearly 8- YIKES!) and
Baby Redneck (2.5) shared another room and we had a playroom with a
second TV, the toys, the guinea pigs and a queen- sized sleeper sofa.
One Friday afternoon, all that changed. The former playroom would be
redone a la PBTeen for the older girls, and their former room would
become the Chamber of Her Royal Hiney, Baby Redneck. Wonderboy would
again have a room to himself.

At
that point, I was envisioning myself as the director of Extreme
Makeover, Bedroom Edition. I had on my lived-
in-but-still-cute-enough-for-a- closeup yoga capris and a Chicago (the
musical, not the band) tee shirt from the late ’80′s. Ponytail? Check.
Paint chips? Check. Enthusiasm? Oh, checkidee doo da day! I’m ready for
my closeup, Mr. Pennington…

I
told the kids to empty the playroom while I zipped over to my friendly
neighborhood Home Depot. I could do it, I told myself, and they could
help. Except, you know, NOT. The paint counter was mysteriously
unmanned (or unwomanned, as the case may have been), but nothing was
going to deter me. I had my Pool Multi Tie-Top Curtain and I boldly
approached the Periodic Table of Paint Color Possibilities. In the
movie of my life (you know, the one where I’m played to subtle
perfection by Rachel Dratch), the soundtrack to this scene will be
Donna Fargo’s Happiest Girl in the Whole U.S.A. "Shine on me sunshine,
walk with me world it’s a skipadee doo da day…"

An
hour later, still no Paint Expert in an orange apron, and I had looked
at the dizzying array of colors so long that one of my eyeballs
actually rolled out of my head and had to be retrieved from under the
You Can Spackle! We Can Help! display. Pool Multi Curtain and I can
take a hint. We blew that popstand and made a beeline to Lowe’s.

At
Lowe’s, I was greeted by not one, but TWO Home Improvement Specialists!
Rapture! One was a fresh-faced youth who looked about 9 and the other
was a hormonal pregnant woman. The evening was ripe with possibility.
Ripe, I tell you.

When
I left Lowe’s at 9:30pm, I had tamed the Periodic Paint Table and
narrowed the choice down to five possibilities, which Helpful Hormone
Mama suggested through charmingly gritted teeth that I purchase in
$2.50 Auditions 8oz. samples. I left with my samples, a roller and a
bag of rags because, really, those raggy rags I have at home surely
can’t be good enough for Extreme Makeover, Bedroom Edition. Right?
Right.

I
walked in the door and found that my darling, obedient children had
indeed emptied the playroom. Into the Living Room. Which was now
ankle-deep in racetracks, Dora dolls and Game Cube wire. With just a
little Silly Putty, I could’ve made a time machine, but darn it, I just
didn’t have the time. Pity.

We
painted a few practice boards and I tried a couple of faux finishing
techinques that I had seen on TV. Where they do entire houses in 30
minutes, making us mere mortals think that we too are capable of DIY-
greatness. I’m telling you this because I love each and every one of
you and because most of you have quit reading long before now: faux
finishing and pro wrestling have a lot in common. Don’t say you weren’t
warned.

So,
to recap, Friday at bed time, my living room looked like the Clean
Sweep people’s yard before the Keep, Sell, Toss segment and for my 4.5
hours of paint-shopping, I came home with enough to lightly coat
Barbie’s Townhouse and Beach Cabana. Once. If Chili has another guest
spot open, maybe I’ll come back and tell you The Rest of the Story. Or
maybe I’ll just skip ahead to the part where, a short 10 months later,
we’re rearranging again for "Is it Menopause? NO! It’s a Baby!"
Hilarity ensues.