Two-thirds of a tin of gloss paint

Two-thirds of a tin of  gloss paint
seeped, unchecked, all over our landing carpet;  
leaked through the railings  
and trickled down the stairs.  
Once a busy mass of browns  
with a pattern purloined from a public house,  
rivulets of paint turned our carpet white  
and now the air turned blue.  
   
It's not clear how the tin was dislodged  
but I discovered the catastrophe  
when I trod in something squelchy  
while making my way downstairs.  
I'd left two tins of paint stacked there  
along with sandpaper,    
old towels, cloths and brushes  
in between home-decorating jobs.  
I didn't knock them over myself,  
but that's beside the point;  
clearly, the lid hadn't been properly secured  
and guess who would have to clean it up?  
   
I don't sweat the small stuff  
and hoped my husband wouldn't either;  
we both HATE that carpet  
and have done since we moved in  
eighteen years ago.  
Still, it would be a gargantuan task  
to clean it up;  
difficult – almost impossible –  
like attempting to put all the toothpaste  
back in the tube after squeezing it out.  
   
Two hours, several old sheets, many buckets of water  
and the grease of four elbows later,  
the paint has been removed;  
its only casualty being one of the forty or so novels  
our teen had left stacked on said floor.  
One silver lining is that I'd chosen quick-drying gloss  
which is mercifully not oil- but water-based.  
As for the landing carpet,  
there's now a large, clean patch  
which doesn't quite match,  
but that's what rugs are for!  
   
I seem to have lost my enthusiasm for painting—  
It's probably not hard to imagine why!