And some days - not too many, thankfully - painting is like trying to reverse an excitable bull out of a china shop without breaking anything, while keeping one eye peeled for whoopee cushions.
Seriously, do you ever have days at work when you just know that if you even think about making a single move something expensive will fall over, or catch fire, or probably both, for no good reason?
On those days you are the plaything of the fates, and the best thing you can do is sit on your hands and resist any and all urges to do something useful. Because if you attempt anything - anything - at all, you will not only fail, but fail in so spectacular and horrifying a fashion that people will ever afterwards speak in awed tones of your abject incompetence, and cross the road when they see you coming. Just in case it's catching.
It's one of life's hardest lessons: some days, you can't do a damned thing right.
On those days, I kick back, do a crossword puzzle, maybe catch up on the gardening and odd jobs around the house. The ironing gets done. I might cut some MDF to size, or think about ordering some paint or brushes.
What I don't do is go near whatever painting I'm working on. Because it would explode.
I also don't worry about it. Because I know those days never come two together, and tomorrow will be great because I had a break.
My advice? If you break a window trying to get the screw cap off a tube of paint, you should maybe take the day off and do something else.