Gallons and quarts of paint.
But first, spackle. For all the bumps and bruises, all the bubbles left from a rush job.
It’s more fun to think of painting, of the roller transforming the space in minutes. But there’s deep goodness in not ignoring those old imperfections and just slapping a bright distraction on top. Even though the walls are looking like a spotty teenager, even though the furniture is pushed at odd angles.
The vision will keep, and tomorrow will come, and it all adds up.
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