Sometimes when I’m working on a project like this, I like to console myself with a little song. Music is good for the soul. This is an original song. You heard it here first, on My Mom’s Junk. I sing it to the tune of Miranda Lambert’s The House That Built Me. Ahem.
The Junk That Built Me
I thought if I could touch this junk or feel it
this broken stuff inside here might start healing.
Mom, this house is really something else,
I can’t find anything all by myself.
If you can help me haul this stuff to the car, I swear I’ll leave.
The rest is too far gone, its nothing but a memory.
This is the junk that built me.
I know. It’s a real tear jerker. In case you are new to my blog, my Mom is a hoarder. This milk can was just one of the hundreds (thousands?) of items my Mom took from our pre-civil war farmhouse, Maple Springs, before we sold it in 1986. My Mom developed an unhealthy attachment to the house and really never recovered from the loss. Most of the stuff sat in the same boxes she packed them in decades ago. Cardboard doesn’t weather well. Especially when dirt, rats, and rain are involved. I saved what I could and threw the rest away.
The first thing you notice about the milk can is it is pretty rusted. The bottom is bad enough that I have no choice but to use this item as an outdoor decoration. It looked like at some point she tried to primer it to stop the rust. It didn’t get enough coats and it had horrible drip marks all over it. Ugh. Thanks, Mom.
So the first step was to sand the Hades out of it. The more I clean and sand, the more I have come to grips with reality. This probably isn’t going to look like all the images I’ve saved on Pinterest. Hence my love/hate relationship with social media. Sighs. Chris suggested we pop off the top and try to bang out some of the dents. I think I’m going to let him.
In desperation, I grabbed a can of Rustoleum primer I got from Moms. Mistake. Of course, its broken and the paint won’t come out of the can. The bottom of the spray paint can is also rusted. Cruel irony. If there is something I always have in spades, it’s paint. So I break out my old stand-by… Zinsser 123 Spray Primer and start spraying. Finally. We’re making progress.
Houston, we have a problem. Just like you wouldn’t wear tight white leggings if you were trying to cover up some bumps (no judgement), don’t spray paint something white if you are trying to cover up imperfections. I digress. This baby needs two more coats of primer. Based on past projects that have gone oh so wrong… I have some words of wisdom for you. Please. Sand. Between. Coats. Enough said.
I’ve decided to paint it black. Black hides a multitude of sins. Trust me. I wear black every day. So I’m praying that my spray paint covers these dents, as well as my Spanx covers mine. Deep breath.