Luckily, the tile and carpet are not new. The painting that we did was just a stop gap. An accent wall.
But still. When that gallon of paint hit the floor……
We spent an hour or so cleaning up. I’ve never shoveled paint before.
And since most of the paint was contained on the tile, we decided to get back into it with a brush and wet rag and turn all the grout to the burgundy color. When you have lemons, you make lemonade.
A few years back my son was using a closed tin of garden paint as a drum.
He was horrified (as was I) to learn that if you beat on the bottom of an upturned paint tin for long enough, you can dislodge the lid.
I was relieved (as was he) to learn that it’s possible to get about a quart of green water-soluble paint out of a Teflon-coated carpet, leaving little clue that it was ever there.
i was walking home from work one fine day. i passed by a house with the windows in the living room wide open. there was a ladder, and a man on the ladder, with a paint can and brush.
as he went up the ladder the paint can snaged on a step and tip-bloop, a gallon of paint doing a high dive off of a 6 foot ladder.
there was much yelling and pounding. another passerby and i looked at each other and ut-ohed.
there is not much you can do at that point except tippy toe away.
Somebody here had a gallon of paint spill all over everything during an accident. It flew out of the back and covered her and her mother along with everything in the car. I won’t try to search for the thread because the search engine frustrates me. Maybe somebody or the doper herself will come along that can add to this.
When my husband decided to repaint our living room, I told him that he had to wait until I was gone to do it, as I didn’t want to deal with furniture moving or drop cloths or paint rollers or any hassle whatsoever. Of course, he couldn’t wait and began painting at 11 o’clock at night. The very first thing he did was open up a can of (bright orange) paint and promptly spill it on the living room carpet. I still think I should win wife of the year award for my reaction - the only thing I said was “Well, that’s gonna be a bitch to clean up.”
Way back when hubby and I were first married, and renting our first apartment, we had done some creative painting on the walls, and were painting over before moving out. We also steam cleaned the rug. Right as we were packing up to leave for the last time, we managed to spill half a gallon of paint all over the newly cleaned carpet. I am embarrassed to say that we just tucked the key in the landlord’s mailbox and fled town.
Yes. In college. I lived in a co-op and we were allowed to paint our rooms provided we used officially approved colors. I had stopped painting my room for the day and cleaned up. I thought I had tamped down the lid sufficiently. I went to bed. The next morning when I bolted up to turn off my alarm, I kicked a can of bright green paint that I had thoughtfully placed in the middle of the room. Thud. Gloop.
I won’t elaborate on the cleanup, but it played out like something out of a low-budget sitcom.
I remember that, too. Thanks to that thread, all my paint purchases go in the trunk or lodged securely in the footwell of the backseat. Thinking about it, they should all go in the trunk. Good reminder.
I dumped most of a gallon of paint down my back, once. It was open on top of the fridge sitting on a drop cloth that was hanging down the side of the fridge. I leaned up against the fridge and slid down to the floor, not thinking that I would take the drop cloth with me. Splash - all down my back. I have also learned through the years that ANYTHING you shake gets shaken with you holding down the lid (including liquid paper).
Never a full can, but there was an accident involving a Stupid Ladder Setup, a full roller-tray of paint, and gravity, and I can report that paint does not cushion a fall very well.
I did once drop a gallon of olive oil on the floor, which was fun to clean up, for the first six thousand hours or so…
When I was 13 I was helping my father paint the garage. He was up on the roof and I was on the ladder with a full gallon of paint, doing the trim up near the roof line. My father didn’t like the way I was painting (he had a very bad temper), so he shoved me . . . hard enough to send me, the ladder and the paint flying. Needless to say, a lot more was painted than the garage. And it was not water-based paint; it could only be cleaned with turpentine.
I didn’t spill it. My son did, all over our brand new (installed less than a week) Berber carpet. He looked at me and I could tell he feared for his life. I said between tightly clenched teeth “YOU are more important than CARPET.” Although true, I didn’t convince him.
It took me 12 rolls of paper towel and four hours to get it all up.
I was about fourteen, (1954) visiting my first girlfriend, whose father was a very intimidating man. He asked if I had ever painted a house and when I said I hadn’t, he said it was time I did. He sent me up on the roof with a gallon of paint, a brush, and orders to paint the trim. I braced the paint can against the 12 foot wooden ladder and started working; he came along, moved the ladder and started yelling at me the instant the paint can slid off the roof. According to him, it was entirely my fault because only an idiot fourteen year old kid would be stupid enough to brace a paint can against a ladder.
Along about 2004 I joined that stupid Classmates.com only because her name was on the list. I emailed her and two or three days later, she replied. She told me she had visited her father in the nursing home and mentioned that she had received an email from me. She said he immediately frowned and said, “That’s the idiot kid who spilled the paint, right?” What a guy; I dated his daughter for two solid years and spent a ton of time in his house. Sixty something years later, he was still blaming me for spilling the damn paint. In all honesty, he was a hell of a good man and a fantastic father.
We are in the middle of basement renovations, and one morning I was finishing up the second coat in the main living space and the husband was tiling in the bathroom. He had a big bucket he would prepare the thinset in in the main area and would mix it with this big mixer attachment to his drill. I don’t know what he was thinking, and I even saw it coming a fraction of a second before he did it, but he pulled the mixer out of the bucket and hit the power button! Thinset sprayed all around the room, from the floor to about 3 feet up, on my freshly painted walls.