Happiness. It's relative.

I painted my kitchen cabinets a dozen times. Unscrewed the doors and put them on sawhorses in the backyard and painted them an even more time-choked green than they’d been painted before. And then I lined up the hinges and screwed everything back together.
Also, one Christmas Eve when I’d really reached the end of my scant maternal instinct and had the thinnest possible hold on my holiday spirit, I painted the upstairs bathroom a beautiful rust color using paint I found in the basement behind a stack of record albums that had buckled with age and dampness.
Once, when I painted our bedroom, I fell off the radiator and got two screaming black eyes. This was a terrifying affair, not so much because of the injury but because of the blood in my eyes. Lordy.
I do have an affection for painting although I am not good at it. A few years ago, I had a wild hair to paint my office the same color as the rusty bathroom and, although the job was sloppy and the paint very old, the color is marvelous and homey and many times there is no place I’d rather be than sitting in this very spot doing what I’m doing at this moment.
I used the paint things all the time, and I guess I’m not entirely finished even without a house of my own now since I recently painted a patio table and chairs. 😀
Painting kitchen cabinets yourself is a big job!
Love the color! And, your still life with Ansel Adams and mittens.