Paint A.D.D.

Don’t ever look at other people’s houses too closely.  Your own looks so much worse when you get home. 

All night after visiting Rachel and Percy’s perfect house, I had paint nightmares.  The green in the entryway was wrong.  I imagined potential buyers opening the front door, taking one look and turning around to leave.  I thought of people not wanting to buy our house.  The color might be too intense.  If you notice it too much, it isn’t right.  You’re supposed to take in the whole house, not be shocked by the color.

Okay, it’s not that bad.  I might have issues, though.  There were so many paint rules when I grew up.  You had to paint everything light to make rooms look bigger.  If you noticed the color, there was too much of it.  When in doubt, paint it Navajo White.  You can’t argue with beige.

I do the opposite of what I’m told so for the last ten houses I’ve fixed up, white hasn’t been an option.  Instead, I’ve emptied gallons of dark green, apricot, brown, red, burnt orange, and dark blue on walls from Montana to California and many places between.  Seeing Rachel and Percy’s house then returning home, I wonder if perhaps my paint rebel days are over.  They may have had a pink room, but the rest of the house blended so well.

I sat again and stared at the entry way walls.  I do this when I’m supposed to be relaxing and watching TV.  “It isn’t right yet,” I told Charlie. 

He was too tired to fight.  “Whatever you say,” he said.  “If you’re changing paint colors, change the bedroom walls, too.  I don’t like chocolate milk.”

“You don’t like that?”  I said.  “Now you tell me.  I was planning to use it in the bathrooms, too.”

We woke up the next morning and found all the unopened cans of chocolate milk paint.  I found the paint samples for the colors in the kitchen and living room and brought them.  If I was getting more colors, this time I thought I might want the colors to all get along beforehand.

Charlie stood in line at the return counter of Home Depot while I stood in line at the paint counter.  He returned the paint faster than the loser guy behind the paint counter.  I’m familiar with my Home Depot paint mixers.  The one guy who makes you stand around and beg before he’ll help you is the only guy available.  He makes me stand around so Charlie finishes returning paint before I’ve ordered any.

The loser paint mixer guy sees me and continues to clean up his area.  I’m determined not to piss him off for fear of him mixing toxic waste or worse into my paint.  Charlie stops by, tells me he’s going to pick up a few supplies and leaves.  The guy still won’t take my order.

A couple of guys walk up behind me.  “How you doin’?” the loser paint guy says to them like he’s been waiting to help them.  I turn around and look at them, then look at the loser. 

“Yeah, right,” I say.

“What?”

“I’ve been waiting here.”

“I was just saying ‘hi,’” the loser said.  “Don’t worry.  I see you.”

“Whatever,” I say.  I’ve somehow turned into the General.  “If you don’t take my order, I’m going to forget what I want.”

He cleans a bit more, just to show he’s between me and my paint.  “Okay, I’m waiting,” he says.

I tell him the colors and finishes I need.  There are a lot of them.  I’m unhappy with the entryway, Charlie doesn’t like the bathroom or bedroom colors and there’s a whole lot of unpainted walls downstairs.  The guys behind me act like I’m the biggest bitch because I didn’t let them go first.  I leave as fast as I can.

“Is it me?” I ask Charlie.

“No, that guy’s an asshole,” he says.  “He’s done that to me before.  I think he picks random people in line to help just to piss off the people ahead of them.”

I make Charlie pick up all the cans.  We converge at the checkout area. 

“Make sure you have eggshell where you want eggshell and semi-gloss where you want semi-gloss,” he says.  “What’s covering up the chocolate milk?”

“This one,” I say.  “It’s called ‘Cup of Cocoa.’”

“It better have a lot of cocoa,” he says.  “Did you get enough to paint the ceilings?”

“No, it’s too dark for the ceilings.”

“Rachel’s house had cocoa-colored ceilings,” he said.

“Oh, if Rachel did it, it must be okay,” I said in an elementary school mocking voice. 

“Rachel’s house didn’t have white ceilings.”

“We’d better not have white ceilings, then.  Let’s compromise.  I’ll do the ceiling lighter.  What about . . . “  I look at the samples.  “ . . . this one?”

I show Charlie a swatch of the chocolate milk color he returned ten minutes ago.

“That’d be perfect.”

“Good, I’ll go get it,” I said.  “It’s the chocolate milk color you just returned.”

I wasn’t embarrassed about buying the same exact paint cans I’d just received store credit for.  I wasn’t embarrassed when I returned home and painted the entryway for the third time. 

I wasn’t embarrassed when the skaters came home and walked by.  They noticed nothing.  The General noticed, though, when she came home.  She took one look at the color and said, “Hmm, mustardy.”  It wasn’t weird to her at all.

Her friend Jessi came in behind her and said, “Didn’t your Mom just paint these walls two different colors of green?”

“She’s got paint A.D.D,” the General said.

Having paint A.D.D. is better than having paint nightmares.  I think I’ll sleep happy tonight.  Even Rachel would like the mustard-colored entryway.

A little help? [] 11:05:28 PM