I find this offensive. Who the hell paints in dress clothes? I don a t-shirt which I usually steal from my husband’s dresser drawer and paint-stained yoga pants which display a sample of every paint color that is and has ever been splashed on my walls. This is my traditional painting outfit. Also, there is no makeup on my face unless you count the splotches of “Warm Muffin”– the newest hue I picked for my walls. By the way, this color is also serving as hair highlights for a few days as well.
The well-dressed chick on the package is only a minor peeve for my painting self. What really ticked me off is that these paint-roller-designing women only thought about painting the edges which are within easy reach. Their little cute painting tool can handle a chair rail or a door trim, but what about the ceiling edges? The innovative women, who of course give some of their proceeds to breast cancer lest they risk formal shunning by the female race, offer no attachments for anything that can be used to paint areas that are out of my reach. If I want to use this tool, I have to climb a ladder and get myself to the ceiling in order to make that nice straight edge of which they are so proud of, and climbing ladders has not always proven to be a good activity for me. Now, this little design oversight might not have mattered if their edger could be attached to extension poles, but that’s not a possibility either. There is no way to screw the female rollers in to the extension poles to make them reach the ceiling edges. I knew as soon as I wrote that sentence, that there was a sex joke hidden in there somewhere, but right now, I don’t have the patience to dig it out, so I will leave that up to your imagination.
So, how do these women paint all the corners and edges of their rooms without ladders or extension poles? My guess is they hire handymen who have the real tools to do these jobs. Unfortunately, I cannot hire a handyman. In my house, we follow the religious principle, “no project is worth doing unless we can do it ourselves.” In truth, that is my husband’s dogma. I would love to hire a handyman, but since I don’t want to consider divorce just yet, I have adapted to his “self-home improvement” way of thinking.
So, what have I done about the overdressed lady with the paint roller? I guess it wouldn’t surprise you to know that I have written her and her paint-rolling friends a nice, friendly letter explaining my angst about their product, and to my credit, I only cursed once for effect. Will I look for more of their products that claim to know what women want? Yes, if any of their products include an inflatable contractor whose only desire is to do what I want and make me happy without questioning my motives. If they can deliver that, I will gladly support their female cause and admit they know What Women Want.