Renovation, or How I Became Obsessed with My Swiffer Vac

I don’t know if I’ve mentioned that my husband is a house painter. He’s been painting since he was about nine when he started helping out his Dad with the family business. So, he’s got skills, which would have been nice, if only we had been living in places that could be painted. What irony, like the doctor who’s kids are sick all the time or the chef who never makes dinner. We have been together for seventeen¬†years and we have painted various rental places, but for the last twelve¬†or so years, we’ve been living in cabins, our modular home, and at one point a converted bus. All places that you really couldn’t paint. Also, rentals, except for the modular home, and who wants to help out a landlord with a free, professional grade paint job?

The day we moved in. So dark, even with the big windows.

The day we moved in. So dark, even with the big windows.


The new house has a terrible paint job, to put it mildly. Dark colours combined with dark wood ceiling and dark wood floors really made the house seem claustrophobic. I don’t like brown. I like blue and gray and sometimes turquoise. I’m drawn to light and brightness¬†and I can’t be around dark, depressing colours, especially in the depths of winter.

So we begin our painting journey. It’s liberating to put your mark on a new place, make it your own. We started with the kids bedrooms, in hopes of lessening the upheaval of their little lives. The boy does not like change and I get it, so we did his bedroom first, then the girl’s and then ours. All this was incredibly exciting and we took the week off after we moved to get it done and get settled.

The boy's room before.

The boy’s room before.

The master at work.

The master at work.

The boy's room after.

The boy’s room after.

The girl's room before.

The girl’s room before.

The girl's room after.

The girl’s room after.

At this point, we started the living room. Now, I don’t know how much you know about real, professional painting, but to get a really nice job done, there is a lot of prep work. I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking that regular people paint all the time, there is minimal skill to painting a house, etc., etc. I can tell you from personal experience that after the hubby is done painting a house, you can tell the difference. He’s taken many before and after pics and repainted places that were painted by their owners, no experience at all. The difference is amazing. Filling holes, hiding deficiencies in walls, blending bumpy areas, this all makes for a much better job.

Assessing the situation.

Assessing the situation.

Picking a colour.

Picking a colour.

With our house, the previous paint job was pretty bad. Hits on the ceiling, not fixing holes, bad drywall work, all awful. Thankfully, hubby knew what to do. And it all started with drywall mud, used for filling holes, patching and making the walls in the living room perfect. Did I mention hubby is a bit of a perfectionist? Not in most aspects of his life, but when it comes to painting, the man is a machine. I understand completely, as a person who has a hard time stopping a painting, seeing just one more thing that has to be done or fixed, knowing all the while, I’m the only one who sees it.

Perfectionism, however, leads to more mud and more mud leads to more drywall dust. Now this was not a problem in the bedrooms, where it was sort of contained. I vacuumed as much as possible and the dust all over everything was kept to a minimum. The living room is another story. This is my first time living with laminate flooring and it’s a bit much for me. You can see everyone’s dirty footprints, including the dog. Speaking of Angus, there is so much dog hair accumulating in the corners¬†I could actually create a whole other dog out of it, or perhaps mittens. Mittens would be nice.

Look at the mud! Ack!

Look at the mud! Ack!

But the drywall dust, oh, I just can’t deal with it. I feel like I’m cleaning it up all the time. It’s on everything! The tv, all the furniture, what little there is in the living room, the plant (yes, I have only one plant; it’s a long story). Argh!! I would never have previously described myself as a neat freak or even mildly anal retentive about my house, but this dust. I think it’s giving me OCD. So I bought a Swiffer Vac. I have to say it’s my favourite cleaning implement in the house! I mean, if I had a favourite, which I don’t because I¬†don’t have¬†OCD! The thing is amazing. It sucks up the bigger stuff, it sweeps away the stray hairs and it’s really great with the drywall dust. It has clogged the filter a couple of times, but it’s totally workable. Oh, I love it. I can’t express how it makes feel after I’ve spent a little while with my Swiffer Vac. I’m calmer, happier even. Sigh. Have I reached the age where I am having a love affair with a cleaning product? My twenty year old self would be completely ashamed.

So much better!

So much better!

P.S. This blog post was in no way sponsored by Swiffer or any of it’s affiliates. I just love it without any monetary supplementation at all, so I must mean it!


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