In preparing to sell our home, we have been examining each room and repairing any cosmetic deficiencies we find.  Mostly, we’re painting everything that doesn’t have a heartbeat.  Few rooms have been declared worthy as they stand:  The sitting rooms which got a major update in 2007, and the utility room, which got the same the following year.  The master bathroom had no major flaws, save one.  The cheesy cherub wallpaper.

When we signed on our house in 1999 I had but one reservation: I detested the master bath.  I had always envisioned my future master bath to be more like, well, more like what I’m building soon.  I liked everything about this house except the master bath.  But, I knew I could do something with it.  Something way better than that creepy wallpaper that burned my eyes out of their sockets.

Although a photograph of the wallpaper nightmare follows here, I feel compelled to identify the horror in words.  Hunter green jacquard print.  Burgundy (what Dom calls “purple”) ribbons and rose-wreath hearts woven around in frilly waves.  Wrapped in the burgundy ribbon at odd intervals are these little guys:  creepy toga’d cupids, arrows drawn to ensure that you fall in love.  That is, if you don’t try to drown yourself in the toilet first.

To make matters worse, it is a small second-story room with a slanted ceiling.  The wallpaper clung above the shower and onto the walls around the room then crept down the slanted ceiling to the vanity, those little cherubs poised every eight to twelve inches. The slant of the ceiling and the size of the room mean that the mirror at the sink has to also tilt back a little so that you can actually see your face without having to duck.  (I paint a lovely picture of this house I need to sell, don’t I? Rest assured, this is the only room with such issues.)  Essentially, this means that no matter where you look in the room, you are framed by the dark green and yes, you guessed it, cheesy little cherubs looking back at you.

Until last night, that is.  I totally went against the “we’re only working on one room at a time” rule, spied a pucker in the seam of the wallpaper, and before I knew what possessed me, I had ripped a two-foot chunk of cherub right off of the wall.  Die, you wicked little monsters with toothless grins!  Die!!

“MAMA!!! What are you DOING?!!!!”  Busssssted!

“Don’t go telling your dad.  He’s not gonna like that I’ve done this.  He’ll see it on his own; there’s no need to go tattle on me, okay?  The more I have completed before he sees it, the better.”  (Keep in mind, Dom did not LIKE the wallpaper, he only liked that it did not REQUIRE repair.)

Victoria continued to eye me with suspicion.  “Can I help?  That way, you’ll know I’m in here with you and I’m not talking to Daddy.”

“Fine.  Here’s a stepstool.”  I continued to rip massive waves of paper from the drywall, amazed to discover that this was potentially the only paper to have ever been installed in this bathroom. Which means somebody tolerated these demonic little cherubs for much longer than I did.  Perhaps what kept it on the wall was the fact that the paper still looked brand new and in mint condition, albeit horrendously butt-ugly.

Eventually, Dom wandered up the stairs and I braced myself for the inevitable eye-roll and exasperated huff.

“What the…?” His facial expression completed the sentence.

“I know what you’re thinking, but trust me.  This wallpaper is a LIABILITY. If we want to sell, the creepy cherubs have to GO!  It will all be fine as wine by Thursday night, I promise.”

Dom looked like he needed that wine in order to process my madness.  But he shrugged, eyed each wall individually, and nodded. “It’s definitely going… You just gonna paint?  You could do that fancy texture paint you used downstairs.”

It’s like he read my mind.  Hey Mom, guess what we’re doing Thursday when you come over! 🙂