When my husband and I moved into our current apartment we decided to paint. Or rather he decided to paint. We have been renters for years and always wanted to paint the walls but never made the commitment of having to paint them back to white when we move out. Sick of waiting to live life, of really enjoying the decor of the home we spend so much time in because we just don't go out that much anymore, we decided to stop putting it off until we can "buy" something and went for it. We picked out the wall colors, from mossy green to china blue, deep caramel and candlelit glow, and set about transforming our white-walled adobe into a backdrop of color. Painting is fun yet exhaustive, especially with all the prep work involved. As it turns out we enjoy a few days of fun and spending time together painting the different rooms and hallways a variety of colors. There were a few mishaps along the way. Unfortunately he did not discover the edger-on-rollers until the last room and my dear husband spent an entire Saturday painting our bedroom the most putrid color of yellow while I was at work. Actually it was more of a "goldenrod" color, mimicking the brownish greenish ugly yellow of copy transfers. One pink, one white, and one that goldenrod color. It actually made you want to leave the room. I really choked on picking out that one, but mistakes do happen, and that had to be repainted. Otherwise there was only one other mishap that was quite hilarious and has since become a family metaphor, a joke around here.
We painted the kitchen and front bath green. There are sofits in the kitchen so we had to make clear distinctions where the sofit ended and either ceiling or wall began. We had decided not to paint any of the ceilings, for it was too much of a hassle, and I was already bent out of shape about how we were going to actually execute painting the entire apartment back to white while moving, which is in and of itself exhausting. My husband finished the kitchen and started on the bathroom. And as he is rolling his big green roller across the wall we are having a conversation. About what I cannot remember, but I am standing in the doorway and we are chatting and he absentmindedly takes one huge rolling sweep across the ceiling of the bathroom, forgetting he is not still in the kitchen painting the sofits. We both look at each other a little suddenly, eyes wide, as it dawns on us he had just marred the white ceiling with a giant blob of green paint. He looks at it with defeat on his face, trying to figure out how to correct this mistake, knowing this is yet another hassle to deal with. And as he looks over at me, giggles starting to burst out of both of us, I say, "Well, you might as well paint the whole ceiling then!" and we burst out laughing.
"You might as well paint the ceiling" has become our inside joke, a metaphor for turning lemons into lemonade, accepting what is and making the best out of it. There are countless times in life where what you have planned is not what happens, and you can either relax, find the amusement it in, embrace it or get all uptight and stressed out and pissed off. I have learned, through countless illnesses, there are very few things in life worth getting stressed out over. Yes, health is one, both yours and your families. Enough money to keep the roof over your head, lights turned on and food in the fridge is critical, but after that it really becomes semantics. Having good days, having bad days, that is all part of life. But I know I have a tendency to take small little upsets and build a big mountain of frustration out of them. I can't help it, its in my nature. So when I get all cranky, going off on a tangent, ranting and raving and carrying on like a mad woman, my husband will often look at me and say, "You might as well paint the ceiling", and it reminds me to relax, calm down and not take everything so seriously. And I actually have to admit, my very green bathroom with its very green walls and ceiling that make you feel as though you are in a cave, looks pretty darn good.
Thanks for joining,
Leah
Love it. Thanks for the reminder that every thing doesn't have to be a battle! You are a great writer!
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