The color of love

40 B4 40
27 days to go


Paint fumes make my head fuzzy and my feet heavy.  But still I love painting a room, any room, a new fresh color.  Don't need much of a reason, just a bug and a free afternoon and - voila. 

Sometimes we paint over the old as we're tossing out the old (read: dumped a boyfriend in New Orleans, turned around and painted our bedroom the most horrendous shade of royal blue - all the way up to the 18 foot ceilings).  Sometimes we paint in the new just as we're starting anew (read: every brightly colored apartment kitchen I've had since 1998).  Sometimes you're just so damn excited about your As-Seen-On-TV PaintStick that you simply can't stop yourself from painting every single room, again.  Sometimes it's all HGTV's fault and when combined with a snowstorm and a wild hair - big things happen (read: one manic weekend in NYC painting amazing stripes on my walls).  Sometimes it's because there's a run-down school in Queens that needs some fixin' up and you & your friends are just the right set of do-gooders to make that happen.  Sometimes it's just because those damn paint chips have been taped to the walls since moving in 10 months ago and the wall's just not going to paint itself already.

Spent today painting in Nate's house, the one he's graciously agreed to sell in order to start our lives together in a new house of our own.  This was a whole different thing.  An act, nearly, of service and of love.  I've never painted a room out of love before (well, not out of love for a person, as opposed to a love of bright orange) - and, like a lot of things lately, I wanted to get it just right to show that love.  So I taped and I rolled and I got into the corners like a pro.  I did a second coat and I bent over backwards trying (poorly) to cover that gnarly brown on the ceiling.  And I did that while singing and bopping around to some terrible 90's music and daydreaming of our next steps - in a home that we will share, and paint, together.