I blame Pensive Sky.
When I woke up yesterday morning, I briefly contemplated how to spend the day. The skies were overcast. And rain was imminent. It was the kind of weather best suited for…..cleaning……or reading. I thought about cleaning my house. Thought about spending the whole day trying to keep two boys occupied while I kept their messes at bay. And it didn’t sound appealing. It sounded….like a waste of time.
So I settled on spending the day reading one of the many (untouched) books I’ve borrowed from the library recently.
I went downstairs to check email; to wait for the professor to leave for his meeting, so my ‘day-of-reading’ could begin. I made my usual internet rounds of newspaper sites and blogs. The last blog I checked, the one I almost didn’t check because I’d already wasted enough time on the computer, had a post about a paint color.
Pensive Sky. By Behr. Described as the perfect ‘pale, dreamy blue-grey.’
And suddenly my mind was flooded….with thoughts….about how much I loathed the color on our walls; about the email I’d sent to the professor asking if we were going to keep living in our current rental, the one to which he did not reply; about the dreary weather that was making the house-with-too-many-walls feel dark and cramped.
All exacerbated by that greenish tan-clay covering every single wall in the house.
And, faster than one can say ‘I thought you were going to read’, the wheels were set in motion. ‘Do you think I should paint the walls, or just get some different art,’ I called to the professor.
‘What?’ he asked in an I-have-no-clue-what-you-are-talking-about voice.
I looked at some illustrations I’d admired on Etsy. One from an Australian-based illustrator, and another from an artist living in….Israel. It would take weeks for the prints to get here. And I’d have to buy frames. And I’d have to stare at the green-tan until then.
An instant solution it was not.
‘We can give you a ride,’ I informed the professor who was busy looking for spare change so he could take the bus. [Because the University is sort of on the way to Home Depot.]
‘So, where are you going,’ the professor asked when we were buckled in the van en route to the U of C. After the Hen had conspiratorially informed him that we were ‘running errands’. ‘To Home Depot,’ I replied. ‘For what,’ he asked. Which was weird. Because I’d clearly hinted at my current preoccupation. ‘To look at paint colors?’ he guessed.
At Home Depot, I steered my boy-laden cart towards the paint department. I found the Behr section of color cards….and looked at Pensive Sky. I liked it. But I worried it would turn dark on my walls and the cramped feeling would return albeit with a different name. So I looked at the [lighter] color just above it.
Whatever that is.
And….twenty minutes later, I walked out of Home Depot with a 5-gallon pail of Snow Leopard, a roll of cheap paint-tape, and a couple of brushes. Dumbfounded by my own impulsivity.
Stupefied, actually. My inner dialogue went something like ‘did I just buy a 5-gallon pail of a random paint color?’
Who does stuff like this?
We headed home and I put young Percy to bed. Under the Hen’s watchful eye, I began the arduous process of paint-preparation. Moving furniture. Dusting baseboards. Sweeping floors. Taping baseboards and ceiling perimeters.
I lugged the 5-gallon bucket from my car, nearly killing myself in the process. I dipped my newly-purchased brush in the paint. ‘Why are you painting,’ the Hen inquired for the twentieth time in as many minutes. ‘Because I don’t like this color, it makes me feel like I’m living in a cave,’ I replied…..for the twentieth time.
The professor walked through the door at 5pm. On the dot. A look of horror on his face. ‘What happened here,’ he asked in an ‘I can see what’s happening, but tell me I’ve misinterpreted it somehow’ kind of way. ‘We’re painting!’ the Hen announced cheerfully. Followed by ‘Mommy doesn’t like the paint color’ or ‘Mommy doesn’t like living in a cave’..
‘Did you check with the landlord,’ my better half sputtered.
‘No, but how can they be mad, I’m painting the place white not some crazy color.’
‘I just don’t understand,’ he sighed. ‘We’ve been married for fifteen years,’ I reminded him. ‘I told you this morning I was thinking about painting the walls….’ He sighed again, ‘I thought: worse case scenario she’ll buy the paint today,’ he explained, ‘I didn’t think you’d actually…paint!’
Around 1.30am, we crawled into bed, having (mostly) covered the hallway, living room and dining room…in Snow Leopard.