I haven't painted since eighth grade when my dad and stepmom added onto our house. The house was covered in a blue tarp, which is all fine and good and tacky enough--before the rain set in.

My memories of DIY projects consist of taking a broom and standing on a ladder to push the tarp-tent-like thing up so the water wouldn't weight it down and collapse the house.

Then the painting that followed turned out interesting.  My room was bulldozed and I slept in another room that had no door. The whole addition was definitely an early test of patience.

A decade later, my memories taught me perfection is a distant dream. So, this time around I shot for what would make me happy. (No door and a blue tarp does not make me happy, but a lil Radiant Red could brighten any day, right?)

I've wanted a red wall for years and I almost didn't do it. But I'm so happy I did.

Though the DIY project was a bit, well, messy, it makes my apartment feel even more like home. Annnnd, as Dorothy taught me at a young age "There's no place like home."