Now that we've been at this whole DIY renovation game for quite some time, there tends to be less and less that intimidates us. Early on I remember the fear I felt when turning a circuit breaker back on after simply swapping a single duplex outlet. Today I feel like I can pretty much do that in my sleep, no concern that our entire house will burst into a ball of flames from some errantly placed wires.
Experience, and as I said last week, perspective, have helped to build a solid foundation that typically results in far less concern for failure, and far more attention to doing the job well. However, at certain times in a project when tackling something truly new, that creeping feeling of self-doubt brought by the Doubt Gnome inevitably shows his ugly face and tries to undercut our overall progress with words of de-motivational catastrophe.
Our vanity work has been progressing nicely, and though the work I've been doing to sure up the piece's stability was "new" work, it was still a collection of woodworking techniques with which I was comfortable. But as I completed this work, the little Doubt Gnome began to creep into the picture, dropping nuggets like, "You know, if you're painting this piece and it turns out streaky, all of your effort will be for naught and it will ruin the whole thing. The last person I know who failed at this task is now living in that piece of streakily painted furniture somewhere under a bridge, too embarrassed to even show their face. Have a nice day!"
The Doubt Gnome is actually a real jerk and provides untrue anecdotes to support his fear mongering, then tends to end his depressing words with an upbeat closing. I really hate that guy.
The Gnome was preying on my inexperience when it comes to paint sprayers. He knew that I had never used one, that I barely had a clue how they worked, and that I've had a High Velocity/Low Pressure (HVLP) sprayer sitting in our basement for over a year, received as a Christmas gift for this very task, a bit significantly prematurely. He also knew I was as intimidated as I could be and I didn't want to ruin the vanity we'd worked so hard on. At the same time, I didn't want to somehow screw up and ruin the paint gun. I didn't want to waste the paint and primer that has gotten exponentially expensive over the years. And I had an overwhelming fear that the spray gun was going to somehow end up like a giant out of control snake, wildly whipping around the room, knocking me unconscious, proceeding to cover the entire bathroom with streaks of paint while I lay motionless on the floor. Hey, it could happen, right?
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