I know everyone has their preferences for things. Up until I was fifteen I used to tell everyone that my favourite colour was puce, purely because I thought I was being unique and edgy. So…that was embarrassing. I once dated a guy whose favourite type of music was catchy elevator tunes; he had CDs that he played in the car and everything. Weird relationship in general, not that I think about it. Should’ve been a warning sign from our very first car ride together, when he put in the tape and excitedly told me that it was a jazz version of ‘Hey Jude’. That’s not a jazz song, in case anyone had the slightest bit of doubt.
But yeah, everyone has their thing, and I’ll allow it. But my husband wanting to paint one side of our house purple? Where did he even GET the idea? I only went along with it because I thought it was relatively easy to reverse. Him and my father-in-law showed up on Saturday with their folding platform steps and a whole set of mobile scaffolding that can’t possibly have fit inside his tiny garage, and they went to work. I had to climb that mobile scaffolding to bring them lunch, I’ll have you know. I actually became a part of this madness, no matter how small that part was. So then I go inside and wait for them to finish with the tentative air of a soldier hiding in the trenches and waiting for the bullets to stop flying. All I can see through the kitchen window is the metal of the mobile scaffolding, so I’m trying to keep busy whilst wondering what my house is going to look like afterwards.
Terrible, is the answer to that question. I thought we were going for a dark purple, something classy that would mark us as distinct but still stay subtle. Nope. In the bright light of the sun, that thing shines like a puce beacon, like our house has a skin coating.
So, they’re coming back this Saturday, mobile scaffolding and all, to do it right. This time, they can pack their own lunches.