Gallons and quarts of paint.

But first, spackle. For all the bumps and bruises, all the bubbles left from a rush job.

It’s more fun to think of painting, of the roller transforming the space in minutes. But there’s deep goodness in not ignoring those old imperfections and just slapping a bright distraction on top. Even though the walls are looking like a spotty teenager, even though the furniture is pushed at odd angles.

The vision will keep, and tomorrow will come, and it all adds up.