We’re having some painting work done, and living briefly in the active painting zone is an adjustment. There are drop cloths everywhere, paint cans and brushes, buckets, turpentine jars, taped off windows, tarp-covered furniture, shop vacs, and general painting tool bric-a-brac scattered pretty much everywhere. And on the counter and in the refrigerator are foods and bottles of unknown provenance brought over by the painter to provide fuel during his painting day.
Fortunately, he let the place dry out and air out a bit before we arrived to see how the work was going, so rather than heavy paint fumes we’ve got the delicate scent of freshly painted rooms. It’s a smell I like.