I reached my limit the other night when I was watching a movie, and the recently-married couple painted their house interior with sheer joy. True to the genre, painting was depicted as this happy communal event filled with humorous blunders:
- He dabs paint on her nose.
- She tomboyish-ly wears her cap backwards.
- One of them teeters on a ladder.
- Someone steps in a can of paint.
- A fast-motion shot shows them rolling out an entire wall in 10 seconds.
- Gaiety ensues.
- So forth and so on.
I don't know of anybody who, once past that first wall, finds painting to be a goofy, fun-filled event.