White is Wrong, Green is Not

We’re in the Jeep, driving Dylan the skateboarder kid home. His car died so we have to be parents again. To get my mind off the idea of driving an almost 18 year old around everywhere, I’m thinking about paint.

I ask Charlie, “Can we stop at Home Depot? I need one more paint color.“

“Okay, but it‘s almost 9:00 PM. They‘re probably closed.”

Dylan’s in the back seat, leaning against his backpack full of unfinished homework with his eyes closed. He doesn’t look like he’s in a hurry to get home and finish it. I tell him, “We’re stopping at Home Depot.”

I knew exactly what I wanted and picked the color right out. Charlie usually heads straight for the tool crib, drooling at the thought of tools. This time he stays by me, hovering, and looking at paint chips. He must be tired.

Charlie stares at the blue chips. He’d paint everything steel blue, given a chance. Bathrooms, bedroom, interiors, exterior: it’s steel blue if it’s his decision. We painted the previous house exterior steel blue. As soon as the designer neighbor saw it, he shouted, “Oh! It’s so coastal!“ From then on he waved when he saw us and even helped us work from time to time. This only added to Charlie’s one-color determination.

This is a ranch house, not a coastal-looking bungalow. Steel blue isn’t in my plans. My plans, and I do all the planning, involve green.

Charlie hates green. I’m convinced this is because he’s lived in Oregon too long. Everything’s green here most of the year. If it’s not the foliage and moss outside, it’s mold in the bathroom inside. The paint chip I’ve chosen is cream of pea soup green, but doesn’t have a food name. This is a first for me. I’ve picked a paint with a mood: “Contemplation.”

“Ohhh,” he says. “I don’t know if I hate that color because it’s green, or it’s all green I hate.” I expect this. I have to be strong. “Can we do the lighter color on your chip?“

I’m weak. “Okay,” I say. We leave Home Depot with a five-gallon can full of “Lime Light.“ I hope this is one of those colors which looks better on the wall than on the chip. At least it’s a food color.

Dylan’s annoyed we took so long, even though I thought we were pretty quick about it. We go straight home, I get a brush and I paint a little “Lime Light” on the wall. I stand back and look. It’s not lime, it‘s too light, and it’s the exact color of Crest. I’ve spent many mornings of my life washing toothpaste off walls, being a good wife and mother. I have the urge to wash this off right now. At least it doesn’t smell minty.

Before I go to bed, I look at it again. Either I’m really tired or the Crest is becoming dangerously close to white.

White is the last thing you want on your walls if you grew up in places where white walls were your only choice. Shelley of The Menagerie, says she lived in military housing and parsonages as a kid, and rentals as an adult. White walls were mandatory, so she was determined not to have any when she bought her own home. There are a lot of us white-wall-haters hiding around.

My sister and I painted everything my Dad owned in Benjamin Moore Navajo White. He’d get a vacancy in one of his rentals, and my sister and I would lay on another coat. We’ve both painted more Navajo white than we’ve painted anything else, ever, combined. We can spot Navajo white on a neighbor’s wall from out on the sidewalk.

Our family has a lot of Engineer in our blood. True Engineers are the first ones to tell you they can‘t see beyond tan. Linen white, Cloud white, Dove white: these are the safe places in the paint world. If you‘re going to take a risk, don‘t do it on your walls where anyone can see. Somebody might be peeking in from the sidewalk.

When my Engineer Dad came up to see the progress on our coastal-looking bungalow, he took one look at our living room and said, “You‘ll never sell your house like this.” I don‘t think he would have reacted any differently if we had painted it flat black. It was painted, in another of my weak moments, steel blue. I repainted it tan and it sold quickly. Engineers know a few things, even about color.

When you do fixers, you can’t put your favorite colors on the walls. You have to think of what will sell. What’s going to offend the least amount of people? My Dad’s answer, of course, is Navajo white. He glowed when he heard This Old House used Navajo white for all the trim on their Winchester House project.

I can’t do it. All-white walls look like rentals to me. I’m ruined on white.

When I woke up this morning, the first thing I did was look at the Crest swatch. I try to convince myself it’ll work. At least I got some green in the house. I tried to see this as a victory, being married to Mr. Anti-Green. I tried not to think any more about the Crest on the wall.

Mr. Anti-Green came home. “I’m taking next week off,” he said. “I like this feeling of getting something done on the house.”

“Haven’t had that feeling for a long while, have you?” I’m trying to hold in my disdain for the Crest on the wall. I can’t do it without being sarcastic.

“I trust your judgment,” I tell Charlie. “But this color . . .”

He interrupts, “I don’t know anything about color. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“You what?” I swear the guy can read my mind.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I shouldn’t have said anything. It works best when you tell me what to do and I do it.”

How can you argue with that?

“Does this mean we get to go to Home Depot again?“ he says. He acts like it’s Disneyland.

“Oh yeah, I think so,” I say. This time Dylan stays home.

Paint is the one thing you can always fix, particularly when you want it darker. Two paint mixer clerks begged to help us even before we got to the counter. They seemed excited to have this project. While they worked on turning this five gallons of “Lime Light” into five gallons of “Contemplation,” we enjoyed a little tour of our neighborhood Home Depot.

We began at the kitchen displays, picking out countertops. Then we went up and down most of the aisles, looking at nothing at all for hours. It’s fun wasting time here when there’s nobody clogging up the aisles, and nobody half-sleeping on their unfinished homework in the back of the Jeep. I understand now why one of my friends calls Home Depot "the candy store.”

We get home and before I remove my coat, I remove the paint lid. It looks perfect. As Charlie walks in, I brush a swatch of “Contemplation” on the wall.

Charlie walks in and starts laughing. “You’re already into the paint?”

It’s pretty dark, this color. My Dad will hate it. I’m worried Charlie will make rude comments, too, since it’s very green.

“Promise me something, Jill,” he says. “Don’t ever listen to me about color again.”

I guess that means he likes it. I’m not going to ask. I hope we can sell this house before my Dad visits again.

A little help? [] 2:46:32 PM