You see this?
That's us trying to choose a wall color for the common rooms of our house.
My friends do this kind of thing all the time. They delight in the challenge, and speak confidently about how happy they are with their new hue.
Me? Terrified. Petrified. I get embarrassingly anxious every time I have to stand in front of that wall again, or flip through the Benjamin Moore color wheel, or drive over to the BM store to pick up yet another mini sample. You'd think I was being tortured in a POW camp or forced to be patient with a roomful of kindergartners for more than eight hours.
I did feel good about the deep clay red I'd chosen to paint in the breakfast nook of my otherwise light and bright kitchen. The handyman overseeing my kitchen, however, strongly insists I keep it all light. I finally made one solid decision, and see what happens?
Some say I'm "missing the gene." Amen to that. I'd almost rather live in a decrepit home.
Rona
ronagindin.com