After taking down the rotting basketball backboard that was ever-so-securely fastened to the front of our house (12 bolts through the siding and two railroad spike-sized nails through the roof), we had a little painting to do. The previous owners were kind enough to leave us the house paint that was left over–they weren’t kind enough to choose a decent color, selecting instead a green the color of that icky, fuzzy mold that grows on cheese–but leaving the paint behind was a nice touch. Although we hated the color of the house the day we bought it, it was brand new paint and we always figured we could choose our dream color when we found a few thousand dollars lying around or the paint started to peel.
I knew that paint could become so old that it was unusable, however, I did not know that the smell could be enough to asphyxiate a rhinocerous. Holy cow! When I took it down to Parker Paint for the official word on whether it was usable, they put it on the shaker and then opened the lid. The smell is hard to describe, somewhere between rotting rodent and toxic fumes. My youngest and I had to evacuate and even the paint guys propped the doors open to air the store out.