The colors upstairs - or lack thereof - were particularly depressing. My bedroom was the palest, most barely noticeable shade of light light blue-ish grey ever, which meant that the room simply looked like someone painted it white a million years ago and left it to get dingy and dusty. Plus there were spots where the plaster walls had cracked (or had lost chunks), so I had filled them in with spackling plaster. It was seriously fugly.
So I started with my room. I chose a beautiful turqoise-y blue called "Cloudless," because it looked like the color of Emma's room. I wanted something that reminded me of her, but in a cheerful way.
The difference was astounding, and made me astoundingly happy.
See what I mean about how it wants to be white, but just looks dirty? |
Ahhhh... so much better. |
But of course, it's like getting a tattoo. Once you start, all you want to do is paint more more more.
My room has an adjoining smaller room/alcove. I had a chaise longue in there and a painted chest that my mom got me in Romania, but I never used it (the room, not the chest). So this past weekend, I decided to turn it into an office.
I picked out a beautiful yellowy green color called Citron that I thought would look amazing against the blue. I moved everything out of the alcove, put some college football on the TV to listen to while I worked, and started painting. It was freezing and snowy out, so it was the perfect day to stay in and warm up the walls of my house.
Feh. |
Love. The color doesn't actually look that neon-y in the light of day - the overhead light is causing that effect. |
The view from my bed in the light of day. |
But wait...
Yes?
What's that spot on the floor near the door?
Oh, you mean the spot on the carpet that is the same color as the walls?
Yeah, that.
Oh, right. Funny story, that.
When I painted the main part of the bedroom, after I had done the entire room, I waited a couple of hours and then went over the walls looking for spots where the coverage wasn't great, maybe because I had missed a spot with my brush or didn't press down hard enough with the roller or whatever. There were a couple of spots above the entrance to the alcove that needed some touching up, so I put a little bit of paint on the underside of the lid of the paint can and went up the ladder with my brush.
Of course, at this point, I had mostly cleaned up, including putting away the drop cloth. The paint can was resting near the base of the ladder.
As I came back down, I wobbled a little bit and put my foot back abruptly to catch myself...
and ended up stepping backwards into the can of paint. While wearing socks.
It took me a couple of seconds to figure out what had happened. Why did my foot feel gooey?
Then it was a flurry of me pulling my paint-soaked foot out of the can, sloshing paint on the carpet, pulling off the sock and throwing it in a panic into a big cardboard box that I was using for trash, and then sitting on the bed trying to figure out what the fuck to do about the fact that there was bright blue paint all over the floor.
The answer, of course, was "nothing that would make a damned bit of difference." I scrubbed and scrubbed, but it's unsalvageable.
But the truth is, it's shitty carpet and I've wanted to replace it anyway, so now I have an excuse.
Right after I finish painting the other rooms upstairs.
What a pick me up! Color can make such a difference in so many ways. Your selections are lovely.
ReplyDeleteThank you!
DeleteIt's amazing the difference a coat of paint can make! Looks awesome and I'm glad it makes you happy!
ReplyDelete