My husband puts up with a lot from me these days…like, he should probably be eligible for some kind of award. In generally, I consider myself a pretty go-with-the-flow kind of gal, but as you may have guessed (based on the sunny outlook I’ve repeatedly exhibited on this blog) I’ve been just a little bit cranky throughout the course of this pregnancy. Meanwhile, Scott has been working his ass off to a) keep me happy, and b) press on in preparation for the babe regardless of which direction my mood-pendulum is swinging.
So, last night, after Scott prepped and spackled the room, he was ready to paint. We went to Osh and selected our paint color based on a sample we’d been mulling over around the house for a couple of weeks. We’d looked at it in every light, so you’d think that by the time purchased the paint, I’d be ready to go. Nope. All it took was Scott mentioning in passing that he thought it might be the exact same color as our guest bathroom to send me into a total meltdown. (Now, I’m not blind or stupid – despite being obviously crazy – so I was actually aware that we were choosing a color that had been used elsewhere in our house, but I had high hopes that the slight differences between the shades would keep it from feeling like I had a bizarre lime fetish of some kind…)
I halted the masking I was doing and went into full on crazy-wife-from-hell mode as I insisted that we dig out the old lime green paint we’d used on our bathroom three years ago so we could check it to see if it was in fact the same color. Scott, being rational, suggested that we just chill for a minute and wait until morning if I was unhappy so we could take the paint back to be adjusted. This somehow incensed me further. I informed him that I was already chill as fuck. Then I stood in the bathroom for a while [sighing heavily] while I scrutinized the paint chips against the wall. After that, I stared at all of the inspiration shots I had collected to see if the color matched. Still not satisfied I insisted that we slap some of the paint on the wall so I could get a better look. Then, brow furrowed, my husband stood by patiently while I sucked up some more valuable painting time watching the color dry. (At this point I raged for a bit at the Osh guy who mixed the paint, since I felt it was nowhere near the color of the swatch I selected.) I spent nearly TWO HOURS staring at that paint and those paint chips in every available light in the house, lamenting my choice to go with Scott’s suggestion of Tangy Dill over my original instinct of Lavish Lime, which I was sure would have made the difference when, in reality, these two shades are almost identical.
Finally, I decided that the color was fine and we should just go for it, but that I reserved the right to change my mind when I saw it in the light. Scott agreed that it was my right to do so. (I joked that if I did, it would be his right to slap me in my face, to which my usually patient and good-natured husband quickly and eagerly replied that a verbal contract was binding in the state of California.)
Anyway – we finally painted the nursery. Naturally, upon waking up this morning I had to concede that my husband was right, and Tangy Dill was the absolute perfect shade for our little girl’s room. Although I’m still contemplating repainting the bathroom…
(And as for that lime fetish? I think I have a problem. Pictured above are [clockwise from top left] the bathroom, the inspiration shot, the test patch on the wall, and the paint swatches in question…all of which are dangerously close to the color in my blog header. Dammit.)
Uh oh…I think my neurosis is showing.