Enrique, you asshole

Okay, so I waxed elegant about how much I love our tilers.  Well, the love is gone.  The last day of work was on Saturday, when John was at home.  Uh-oh

Enrique and I had already talked about getting new baseboards because the old ones would look beat-up next to the new tile.  We totally agreed on this.  Well, come Saturday morning, he's convinced John that the new baseboards should be painted while they're still out in the garage.  John totally agreed.  Then he walked in to the kitchen all jazzed that we should paint the baseboards right then.  And he'd even found the paint in the garage that would match the rest of the molding in the house.  "I'll stay out of your way. I promise."  See what happened there? How it went from you --> we --> me?  Clever.

Now, I totally get it.  I do.  It's easier to paint the baseboards in the garage then crawling around on the floor.  It's also a lot less messy.  And I'm sure Enrique is thinking, "you are NOT painted over top of my brand new tiles, bitch."  I get that too.  But here's the thing, I paint inside where it's warm; not outside where it's cold.  And John and I don't paint together because it would require the services of a divorce lawyer.

I dig out my painting clothes, add an extra hoodie and my heavy camping shoes. (When you paint inside, you don't need shoes.  Another bonus to not painting outside.)   My hair's sticking up and I haven't brushed my teeth.  It's awesome.

So here's me, in the garage at 9:06 painting baseboards. And it's 34 degrees out.

John, "Enrique has a drop cloth we can use."
Me, "I'll just use this plastic here."
John, "Do you need new brushes?"
Me, "What's wrong with my brushes?!"
John, "Do you need gloves?"
Me, "I can't paint wearing gloves. grumble. grumble."
John, "This is going to go so fast. It won't take anytime at all!"
Me, "grumble"
John, "It's already starting to dry."
Me, "It's starting to freeze."
John, "Oh my god, you look so cute. I'm going to take a picture!"
Me, "NO, YOU'RE NOT."