Friday, February 5, 2010
paint colors, and my beef with Nicholas Sparks
3:50 AM | 
Posted by
audrey
Most people, I believe, try to relax on their days off. Have a little coffee, putt around their favorite hobby shop, maybe take a bath...
I paint.
Don't get me wrong, I did sleep in a bit later than I'm usually able (getting up at 4:45am most days tends to seriously mess with your body clock), and the first thing we did after showering was head to the beach. That's kind of our weekend routine. When you work in a very fast-paced, often stressful environment, there is nothing better on your day off than the soothing, monotonous sound of crashing waves to take the edge off. Simply put, the ocean is just so good for your soul.
But I returned home on a mission. Having painted nearly every other room in the house, I was finally sick of staring up at dingy, slightly moldy walls from my bed every night (for some reason, I decided when we moved here that the bedroom would be my last makeover project, content with putting it off until spring...why? WHY?). And I was finally sick of sleeping on the floor! Does this mean I'm an adult now? The fact that I'm anxious to throw in the towel and purchase a real bedframe (not even opting to build one myself with miscellaneous ballusters and salvaged doors, which was my original plan) surely must qualify as some kind of rite of passage.
The pirate flag, however, stays.
So soon, there will be a bedframe, which I will need to make a trip to IKEA for. But I was not willing to wait any longer for a new paint job, which is why as soon as we got back from our mini vacation at the beach, I began clearing our bedroom like a crazy woman. Floor, vacuumed. Laundry, bagged. Mattress, off to the living room! (Now we are sleeping between the couch and the TV, which was romantic Christmas Eve, but not so much now, even though our poor little naked tree is still standing nearby. Hey, don't knock it. It is very difficult to part with the most perfect Christmas tree in the world, and besides, every time you suck up more fallen needles, it makes for a wonderful all-natural air freshener next time you vacuum a space).
Seaside Villa is the name of the color we chose for the bedroom. It's blue. For some reason, paint names are very important to women. I know that in all practicality, it makes no sense, but this will never change. So no matter how seriously you men couldn't give a rat's ass about whether a room gets painted Gray Brick or Dockside Haze, do everyone a big favor and do what you have to to channel your feminine side and pick the one that sounds pretty. Because a woman is never, ever, ever going to settle for a color that sounds like crap, even if it looks the best. Yes, it's dumb, but don't make her feel that way. Just agree. (And for all those who are wondering, Jeremy loved my Seaside Villa.)
And now, in completely unrelated news, I've decided to write a book. Yes, I know, I sound like a broken record, as I've been saying this for years. But it just hit me lately, why not me? Nicholas Sparks is on, what, his twenty-third novel or something? And every single one of his blasted stories gets made into a movie! Now, I'll be the first to commend Mr. Sparks for his dedication and success, but I will be damned if a 45-year-old ex-pharmaceutical salesman can write a better love story than me! And so, if for no other reason than to give Nicholas Sparks some competition, I vow to write a story that will one day allow me to quit slaving away for Howard Shultz and his big old coffee empire, and post it here for all to see.
Off to the writing board I go!
I paint.
Don't get me wrong, I did sleep in a bit later than I'm usually able (getting up at 4:45am most days tends to seriously mess with your body clock), and the first thing we did after showering was head to the beach. That's kind of our weekend routine. When you work in a very fast-paced, often stressful environment, there is nothing better on your day off than the soothing, monotonous sound of crashing waves to take the edge off. Simply put, the ocean is just so good for your soul.
But I returned home on a mission. Having painted nearly every other room in the house, I was finally sick of staring up at dingy, slightly moldy walls from my bed every night (for some reason, I decided when we moved here that the bedroom would be my last makeover project, content with putting it off until spring...why? WHY?). And I was finally sick of sleeping on the floor! Does this mean I'm an adult now? The fact that I'm anxious to throw in the towel and purchase a real bedframe (not even opting to build one myself with miscellaneous ballusters and salvaged doors, which was my original plan) surely must qualify as some kind of rite of passage.
The pirate flag, however, stays.
So soon, there will be a bedframe, which I will need to make a trip to IKEA for. But I was not willing to wait any longer for a new paint job, which is why as soon as we got back from our mini vacation at the beach, I began clearing our bedroom like a crazy woman. Floor, vacuumed. Laundry, bagged. Mattress, off to the living room! (Now we are sleeping between the couch and the TV, which was romantic Christmas Eve, but not so much now, even though our poor little naked tree is still standing nearby. Hey, don't knock it. It is very difficult to part with the most perfect Christmas tree in the world, and besides, every time you suck up more fallen needles, it makes for a wonderful all-natural air freshener next time you vacuum a space).
Seaside Villa is the name of the color we chose for the bedroom. It's blue. For some reason, paint names are very important to women. I know that in all practicality, it makes no sense, but this will never change. So no matter how seriously you men couldn't give a rat's ass about whether a room gets painted Gray Brick or Dockside Haze, do everyone a big favor and do what you have to to channel your feminine side and pick the one that sounds pretty. Because a woman is never, ever, ever going to settle for a color that sounds like crap, even if it looks the best. Yes, it's dumb, but don't make her feel that way. Just agree. (And for all those who are wondering, Jeremy loved my Seaside Villa.)
And now, in completely unrelated news, I've decided to write a book. Yes, I know, I sound like a broken record, as I've been saying this for years. But it just hit me lately, why not me? Nicholas Sparks is on, what, his twenty-third novel or something? And every single one of his blasted stories gets made into a movie! Now, I'll be the first to commend Mr. Sparks for his dedication and success, but I will be damned if a 45-year-old ex-pharmaceutical salesman can write a better love story than me! And so, if for no other reason than to give Nicholas Sparks some competition, I vow to write a story that will one day allow me to quit slaving away for Howard Shultz and his big old coffee empire, and post it here for all to see.
Off to the writing board I go!
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