Smoke 'Em If You Got 'Em.

This was me last night.

I's like, done. And exhausted. And grateful. And done.
I hereby pronounce the family room painting fiasco el finis.
I'd like to thank my sweet, patient hubby for putting up with my crap,

and my awesome Daddy-o for lending me his scaffolding for 3 complete weeks and helping put it up and take it down. Risking his life. Wasting his Saturday afternoon.
Scaffold: it's been fun. But let's not do it again.
So, the new mirror. It was at this point when I was very upset and completely loathed the way I had moulded it out-- you should have heard me.

It was dinner time. I was ridiculous. I'd look over at the work I'd done and go,
"Ugh I hate it. I hate it. That is not the way I wanted the mirror to turn out."
(Growling, crusty face, irrational behavior.)
Jeffro: "Well, why don't you try. . . "
"I DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT EW I'm so mad."
And then I'd talk about it some more. And explain why I don't like it. And then the hubs would lovingly try to interject a good idea and I'd cut him off and growl that I didn't want to talk about it again.
So I'm not easy to live with, okay? I apologized profusely later. Out of view of the mirror.
Guess what though? Mirror is staying the way it is. As the Daddy-o advised,

perhaps I'll come up with a fantastic plan that I'll love for this mirror. One that will actually work with it's 2" deep framing. And when that day comes, it's definitely something that can be accomplished with just my ginormous ladder, and not the scaffold.
Also, still not done with wood restaining. Ignore the blue tape. I'm now considering all the wood restaining in this house as a COMPLETE and SEPARATE project of the family room makeover/main floor repainting catastrophe. I have to, else might lose my mind.
Let's talk curtains, people!

These bad boys are 17' long. I have a good friend to thank for being willing to take on the job of hemming them.
So I love them. And I've always wanted dramatic curtains in here. But apparently everyone doesn't love curtains.?. What the? What's wrong with you people? I guess people see them as granny-style, which is similar to Gangnam Style but with less dancing.
And right, RIGHT as I was finished putting up my curtain rods (let's not even go there-- I was having a tantrum about the stud not being in the proper place, 18' up in the air. I've sunk to all new lows this week), the hubs informed me:
he doesn't care for curtains. Gulp.
Well, to quote that awesome scene in "Mr. and Mrs. Smith",
"You'll get used to them."
I'm totally teasing. He doesn't care for them, and also doesn't care if I hang them. I do have his permish.
Can you see our new fan in the corner of the new mirror picture?? Can ya? Can ya?
I have such conflicting feelings! You are Luke Skywalker and you can feel the conflict within me.

I was disappointed about going the "safe" route with a fan, but I knew it was practical. And then I started looking at large fans and was more disappointed because there wasn't really anything under like a bajillion dollars that was sleek and new and cool.
I had to lower my expectations.

Seriously, though, I really do like this fan. In realsies, it's actually pretty interesting. The blades are cool and it really moves the air, and it's huge and it's on a 6' downrod and I freaking love it. I bought a ginormous ceiling medallion that we could not make work with it so I'm disappointed about that but I'll get over it.
Thanks for all that advice.
And then there was the entryway.

Don't bust my chops about the other beam still not being done.
I have a new chandy with a ceiling medallion, and I love it. This upper window was thee FINAL window in this whole house that needed moulding. And it got done. Unspeakable things had to be done to get it completed--

things we should never talk about. Asinine things. Things that involved scaffolding and a ladder on top. Things you only see on Youtube and you laugh and go "nobody's really that stupid".
Let's just leave it at this: it was ugly, it wasn't Osha approved, Jeffro is a saint, and it involved us both on a ladder, my head in Jeffro's armpit, lots of cursing and taking breaks to let the blood rush back into the arms, but it got done.
And I hope I picked a classic enough haunted house chandy that will never have to be replaced before I die. Or I move. Whichever comes first.

Also, I do not promise I'll get back up to that top window and caulk or paint.
Oh man, between sicknesses in this house and utter chaos, I feel like I've been released from purgatory. I keep singing Barry's "I Made It Through The Rain", because that's who I am.

And I just decided that my kids are old enough to handle some cute pillows on my sectional, so a pillow hunting I will go. Call it a reward for the painting.