And so it begins…
In a faraway kingdom, long long long ago… okay, so it was just last May… we were painting our house white for resale, and it felt like we were bleaching the fun and joy right out of our lives. The only way I could cheer the Boss up about the “white white white white white!” was by talking about our future home and promising her she could choose the colours for her new room.
She immediately expressed a love of stripes. Yikes, I thought. A few days later she changed to polka dots. Double yikes, I thought.
Skip forward to last weekend, when I finally summoned up the courage to ask the fatal question: “So what colours do you want your room to be?”
We stood a long while in front of the paint chips at our local hardware store. I mean a loooong while. And we finally emerged with a blue, a yellow, and a green.
It occurred to me that it might be insane to let a six-year-old pick her own room colours, but then again, who am I to dictate colour choices? I am an indecisive idiot when it comes to paint hues. A wall of paint chips makes me break into a cold sweat. Having to choose between “washed-out-nearly-almost-pale-green” and “barely-perceptible-green-tinged-grey” makes me hyperventilate. The last time I painted a new house I had to have someone hold my hand and tell me what to do. (Thanks, Alice!)
In light of my chronic style handicap, why not let the Boss – she of the fabulous fashion and design sense – pick her own colours? Why not let her rule her own roost? Why the heck not?
It feels like a time to be bold, and live in full technicolor instead of soul-less white and obsequious beige.
So I ordered the paint and got to work…
okay, here we go
not bad at all…
It’s taken a couple of days to get used to, but I like it more every time I walk in there.
Another lesson in boldness from the Boss.