A Tale Of Chevron

I have one word for you. 

If you ever have an idea. Think about it. Five years from now if you will regret doing it, than do not do it. In my case its five minutes.
So the story starts with my obsession with everything and anything of chevron print. This leads to the idea of my painting a chevron wall. Yes, my mom regrets handing me a paint brush in 10th grade.
If you think about it, its a pretty good idea. But not when you are kind of notorious for leaving things undone in the middle. And making a mess of things. The word mess is taunting me right now because it can see the storeroom my room has become these days. But I tell you. Not my fault. Okay. Maybe it is. Whatever.
But for now, lets continue with the chevron story. So the paints came. The colour was wrong. And the can was too big for just one wall. Arguments were made. No one liked the colour. Someone thought it was stupid to paint in the first place. 
I started out with the determination of Bob the Builder, taking measurements and marking the whole wall with tape. The paper tape finished half way and than scotch tape had to be used. Our stool was with someone else so I used a table. I had bought a huge meter scale but because we think we are such cool people and are in Games of Thrones. So apparently, it was being used as a sword. And ofcourse, it broke. 
Somehow the taping got done. Two lines of the chevron were painted. And voila ! This happened. 

Calls were made. Huzaifa brought over Petrol. We hurriedly cleaned everything. We made stupid what if if we light you up jokes while taking the paint off of our hands. 
After wasting the whole day and feeling like a complete disaster, amma came to my rescue and finished the paint job. Than we pulled the tape off, took a shower, put our feet on the table, relaxed and saw our handy work.
Bob the Builder would have been proud. 
No, despite many tries, I managed not to fall off the table. 
And yes, I spilled the canister of paint. 


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