So the walls got painted. I picked a color called “Whipped Mint” that is a very soft, subtle, whisper of teal. Very elegant, very luxe, very grown-up. And then…
The camera really doesn’t show the shocking intensity of standing in a house covered in Whipped Mint. It looks more like this IRL:
Yes, we have transformed our great room into a giant baby boy’s nursery.
I stood there kind of laughing and kind of crying at the same time and called Kevin.
Rachel: Kevin, the house got painted. It looks like a Taco del Mar in here!
Once he figured out I was not making a comment about the ethnicity of our painters but was, in fact, making fun of the paint color he tried to calm me down. It’s okay…we can repaint…it’s not like choosing a husband, you can change it…no, we shouldn’t call off the remodel…
I keep going to the house to check it out and come up with new ways to describe the paint. I’ve come up with new names for it, like Overly Aggressive Mint or Screamin’ Teal, or Pepto Blue, or At Least It’s Not Pink.
My mom says, “That’s the same color our bathroom used to be!” You know, in 1986.
But then I went to the house one too many times or something and now I’m starting to kind of like the color. Our GC tells me to stick with it. He thinks the color looks “hot” and once we get everything in we’re going to love it.
In the meantime, I have had way too many restless nights of dreams where I am choosing between shades of light teal and then at the end of the dreams I somehow end up drowning.
I feel if you dug right into the heart of first world problems you would end up at me, standing in my living room with a handful of paint chips and a tall glass of water that I am probably about to accidentally drown in.
But hey, at least it’s not pink!
WHAT’S COOKIN ‘2NITE:
Delfino’s pizza (take out)
Vanilla ice cream with amarena cherries and pistachios