Who knew that choosing a paint color would be so hard? Who knew there was upwards of a million shades of white? When did white stop being white and become “cold white” or “first snow white” or “pure white”? (I’m pretty sure my parents said these kinds of things at some point which promptly lead me to calling them old…)
All I really wanted to do was get the paint colors sorted for the den. Nothing fancy, nothing full of controversy or anything like that. Just get the paint colors picked and purchased for the den to be painted. I wasn’t even asking for the den to be painted by a specific date. Just you know get things all lined up so that a friend of mine could help out since he is a professional house painter and things are slow in his world right now. So when he phoned me and said things were winding down for him and he would be able to come and do some work for me, I thought the right thing to do was be ready for when he could get around to the painting.
What should have been simple turned out to be anything but simple. Another of my friends told me my first mistake was bringing Beloved with me. She should have suggested this before I left with him, she should have gently suggested it the minute I told her I was going to be buying the paint for the den. A gentle question would have been a good way to start the conversation. But she said nothing of the sort; she just said that how the paint looked in the store would be different than how it would look in the house. I told her that was why they made all those little paint card/chip samples for you to take home.
Instead what happened was after two hours in the same store, I sent out a text to some friends, letting them know I may in fact die in the paint store. If not die, I could see myself sadly rooted to the floor while Beloved did his thing. Two hours, and that was just to check out the shades of white, never mind the fact that I wanted another color in the room as well. Sadly none of my friends seemed all that concerned about my eminent death or at least rooting as none of them responded.
The poor clerk, tired of trying to answer questions from Beloved, who for the record has no clue about things like painting, wearily suggested that Beloved grab a whole bunch of the sample cards in the shades he really liked so he could do various squares of “size” in the room with the paint samples. I applauded the creativity, but wondered why it only came after two hours.
Beloved, however, is not a man to take subtle hints. Frankly Beloved is often a man who needs things spelled out in large block letters as a hint. So he stayed, because after all we had to get the OTHER color. By this point I was ready for an all-white room. Heck throw some padding on the walls and let me just bounce off them. I would be fine with that. But not Beloved, which is why the clerk quickly vanished when he say Beloved head over to the OTHER color sections.
The only vanishing act I could pull off was to leave the store, to get a coffee and a walk before I went crazy. In case you are wondering we still have little squares of various shades of white on the wall and that’s about it. No OTHER color has been chosen because now the man thinks that white might not be the right choice.
Who knew being in a relationship was really about trying so hard to commit murder because a trait you used to find enduring is now just…annoying?