The Blandings are painting the outside of the dream house and work is really picking up this week. This is the second house we have lived in; the first was Mr. Blanding’s bachelor pad. He actually bought the house while we were dating so I weighed in a bit when he painted it. He wanted it to be grey and I suggested white. He painted it light grey.
When we moved to the dream house it was a lovely shade of neutral. Really, I do like it and it does seem to suit. It’s just not a color per se. The boys think it’s white, which it clearly is not. Some folks think it’s grey, others tan, others beige.
I might have mentioned before how much I love yellow. Oh, I know, I’ve been around the block a few times. I know yellow can be tricky.
So I went around the block again.
I can’t help myself, these houses dressed in sunshine hold so much appeal to me.
The trouble is getting the right yellow.
A sampling of the ten (I’m not kidding) quarts – ok and a few gallons.
Would you be worried if you lived next door? Or across the street?
Uh-huh, I resorted to mixing myself.
My painters tell me that my neighbors wander by after I leave the house to grill them on which way I’m leaning.
Most of them say, “I like the color it is now.”
My home brew.
But change is good and it’s time for a change.
I don’t know if you’ve ever lived in an unhappy house, in fact, I hope you haven’t as it is quite unpleasant. Once I left the one that tied me in knots every time I came back to it, I promised myself that I would have a home. And that it would be happy. And to me, yellow is happy.
I could hang a banner, “Crazy person lives here.” but I’m into abstract expressionism. We are going with the furthest patch to the right.
So, the painters (who are adorable and are deeply involved in a mutual love affair with Rosie) tell me they will be done the middle of next week. I promise to publish once the last brush is packed away. It might be bright. It might even glow, but if it does I won’t consider it a mistake.
I’ll think it’s happy.