Glimpse into the Williford Home:The Paint Job

A couple weeks ago, Craig and I agreed we would paint the baseboard in the kitchen, down the hallway into the laundry room, and any door frames that needed to be included along that route.
The start was a bit…rocky.

“We need to agree on some issues before we get started,” I informed Craig.
“Like we’ll do this naked?” he asked excitedly.
I wisely chose to completely ignore that. “Who’s doing the taping?”
“You never like my great ideas!” (Still ignoring that.) “I thought I could start in the laundry room. You, in the kitchen. And we’d make our way towards each other.”
“But what if you…don’t do it…right?”
“Ok. Let’s start over, since you clearly want to be in charge. What do you want me to do?”

I glare at him for a few secs. Realized I didn’t like what he was saying, but it was probably true. Mostly true. “So you’ll press the tape down really hard and—”
“Yes, dear.”
“Don’t get snarky!” I give him a light punch in the gut.

The taping goes very quickly and then we’re pouring paint, agree to start at opposite ends once again and work towards each other. Every once in a while one of us drops a paintbrush (“shoot!”) or tips the container (“ugh! That made a mess!”). But overall, we get the job done much faster than I’d anticipated.
“Now, we need to wait several hours before we pull up the tape,” Craig informs me.
I frown. I was really hoping to get this DONE by early afternoon.
“If we pull it off too soon, we’ll pull off still-wet paint. Gotta wait.”
I agree, regretfully, and then plow into other jobs waiting to be checked off my list: wash, changing the bed, cleaning out a closet. By late afternoon—when Craig says we can finally remove the tape, I’m good and tired and—yes, I will fully admit it—cranky.

For whatever reason—maybe just because I WAS so tired?—I don’t think about the possible consequences and I begin pulling up Craig’s end of the taping. Bad choice. So that when I pull it up I see PAINT UNDERNEATH. GLOBS OF PAINT. THAT I HAVE TO NOW SCRAPE AND CLEAN AND MESS WITH, and I am NOT happy. I open my mouth and just let whatever flow: “I knew this would happen. You didn’t do the tape right! Look at this mess! I’m going to have to scrape ALL of this and—”
I suddenly notice that no, actually not ALL of Craig’s tape has paint underneath. It was only a small area and Craig also quickly points out to me that—hell-o!!—my tape ALSO has some paint underneath.
“Aren’t you being a little unfair?” he asked. “Is your taping perfect?”
(Craig tells me that when he noticed that mine wasn’t perfect, he thought, “Yay! Carolyn’s area is messed up too!!)

It’s take a deep breath time. Ask for forgiveness time. And realization and plan for the future time.
“I’m sorry I yelled at you. You’re right. I jumped to conclusions and that wasn’t fair to you.”

Resolve: In the future when this happens—(‘cause this will occur again—different job, varying scenario, but same outcome), I will think to myself: You are tired, Carolyn. Worn out. At this point, anything that you let move from your lips to audible sound will NOT be edifying. Therefore, you will NOT say anything—at least, not at that point. Unless the house is on fire or Frisco is making that harking sound right before he throws up and you yell “GET THE DOOR!” and move faster than the speed of light to push his backside out before it’s too late…