The Paintin' Place

So the guys who repaired our stairway ceiling had these two buckets of paint leftover.
I figured it would be foolish to waste them and Marc was hanging about waiting for a job offer so why not put them to good use.
I decided my talented husband would love to spend his time brushing and rolling.
The people who painted part of the hallway had left us some incentive since where they stopped and where the old paint was looked kind of bad.
The ceiling hole was right at the top of the stairs so that meant we needed to paint up and down and sideways to make it look right. The up and down extends to the hallway, the den, and the foyer. Sideways mean we'll be moving into the master bedroom and second floor rooms next.
Emphasis on the "We" because that's where this story gets complicated.
When I say "Let's paint," I mean I'll supervise and judge the quality of the job and Marc will do the actual work.

Marc thought I meant "we" as in both of would wield a brush.
So I'm clearing the rooms and spackling the many nail holes and standing back to watch the rooms be transformed.
He's on his knees taping and moving the ladder around and spreading the tarp. He's rolling and brushing and carefully painting the trim and baseboards.
He's covered in paint.
After two days of this nonsense, his hands hurt and he's strangely disgruntled.
I'm perplexed.
Are we not having fun?
Is this not a productive way to be together?
What part of "Let's paint!" did he misunderstand?
We're done now with the main floor and it looks great.
I can't wait until "we" start on the upstairs.