Well, as of today, the kitchen remodel began. I started with a mess, but my dear papa is helping me. While I’m an excellent painter on my own, it’s because I learned from my dad. He’s been a painter professionally for 43 years. He was the president of his union for something like a decade or more, and I’m a proud union kid on both sides (my mom works in telecommunications designing circuits). I painted the rest of my house beautifully, but I was pretty damn thankful when he saved me the trouble and sprayed my ceilings.
His birthday is December 31, so like the asshole daughter I am, I celebrate with him a few days later every year and work that night instead. This year, we went to his favorite restaurant on January 3rd — three days after I started my restaurant fast. I had a few drinks (no food!), and we caught up as he ate. He made the offer to help me paint my kitchen, and I enthusiastically agreed. I’m better than the average bear at painting, but I don’t enjoy the long, slow process.
So off I went to the paint store the night before we were to paint. I was in a rush. A big rush. I had to take my dog to her first day of her new class at school, Agility and Performance Readiness — it’s looking more and more like she might compete in the fall match! Anyway, with the snow and things, my mind was awfully scattered when I went to pick out paint. I knew the counters were brown, and that the trim would be the same color throughout the house (“heavy cream”). I looked, and looked. Not blue; I have that in two rooms already. No shades of white or my appliances and trim will disappear, leaving an ugly counter as a focal point. No pinks or peaches, because it’s the color in the dining room. No red or purple; I’m just not that kind of girl. No green; my last rental house was filled with this horror of an institutional, depressing, olive green color that I barely tolerated for four years. No black, no dark grey, no dark brown on the walls; I didn’t want to make the ugly oak cabinets stand out, either. So I picked a tan color, promising myself I’d find a neat color to paint the cabinets when I had time.
Except…I forgot what color the kitchen was painted at the moment. I hadn’t even considered avoiding the same color that it was painted already. I was in a hurry. I chose this color:
Note that it looks very similar to the wall color. Very. Similar. Nearly identical. And yet, I brought it home, and I’m stuck with two gallons of very expensive Behr Ultra paint that can’t be returned. I considered telling my dad about the mistake and having him paint it with a fresh coat of the same color. Something just didn’t sit right with it, though, and I headed back to the store the next morning to hurriedly buy new paint before my dad found out I hadn’t thought long and hard about my (arguably poor) color choice.
To be continued…