Maybe the funniest thing about painting the fireplace was MK’s Dad. Not that I fell over a bunch, not the bruises, not the empty wine cellar. Almost the three trips to the store for more primer. But no.
MK often calls his Daddy to fill him in on the hard work we’re doing. And to ask him the right way to do it. Or redo it. He mentioned that we decided to paint the fireplace. Remember when I asked what was worse than yucky brick? I answered smelly wet brick. MK’s Daddy answered “PAINTED BRICK”.
Thank goodness he doesn’t have to live here, right?
So three coats of primer later, the fireplace is white. And the walls are white. And the room is empty. So it’s a giant empty white basement.
We have plans, eventually it’ll look swanky and loungy like this:
But for now, we have nothing.
My ideas are to put huge vase/candle holders that go straight up the sides of the fireplace, and mount a cover over the mantle, either a slab of granite or a hunk of wood. With a streamlined modern insert, we’re hoping Daddy-in-law won’t see it as just a brick fireplace.