Aspiring to Painthood

I live in a big house. All the walls are a very pale gray. I’ve tried to like the color, mainly because I hate painting. I’d like to think the name on the paint can was “Tahitian Sand” or something as exotic, but “Leftover Oatmeal” or “Albino Elephant” is probably more realistic.

“It goes with everything,” I tell myself. Well of course it does. It’s tofu.

I consider myself a rather adventurous person. I like to kick rocks just to see what’s living under them; I like a straight shoot-out rather than sneakin’ around corners; so I find it odd that I’m very afraid of a paint can. I get all trembly with questions like, “What if I spend forty dollars on “Moss Green” and it turns out to be “Mold Green?” “What if my mother-in-law doesn’t like it?” Where did that come from? I have the best mother-in-law in the world. She wouldn’t care if I painted it “Baby Poop”-especially now that she’s in her nineties.

My daughter Grace has been encouraging me to add some wall color-maybe a coffee or taupe sort of thing. Well, she’s right. I should have. But yesterday, I looked at those walls and decided “You’re So Boring You Make Me Want to Vomit” was the actual color, so I did the only reasonable thing: I went out to the garage and dragged in a few cans of leftover paint a friend gave me (who, apparently, is not timid about her walls). So I tried the goldish color on a small wall. It turned out to be the exact color of my oak cabinets. It reminded me of an outfit I loved in 2nd grade: green pants with a green shirt. So I popped open the other can and cautiously peered inside to the inch of red paint at the bottom. I took a rag and dabbed it on the gold. Oh my golashes- I totally love it (see picture above)! There’s just one little problem. Everything else needs painting now.

I’m an idiot. I deserve to be sentenced to “Tofu” the rest of my life without parole. Someone save me from myself (or at least offer some interior decorating advice).

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