I paint a swatch of Sweet Rhapsody on my bedroom wall. Too blue. Too bright. Too too.
10:00am Sunday morning:
I visit two hardware stores and a paint store clutching paint chips in search of The One.
10:20am Sunday morning:
I sort through the chips and tape a bunch to the wall. None seem right. I reconsider Sweet Rhapsody.
10:50 Sunday morning:
Amy comes over and we discuss the options. Several lighter colors are discussed, but all would entail going back to the paint store and actually buying more paint. For some reason, this seems like far more work than painting the wrong color on all four walls.
5:00pm Sunday evening:
I begin painting. The first wall, in daylight seems reasonable. I carry on. Second wall is done.
Such a bright and playful color.
8:00pm Sunday night:
I finish up painting just as darkness falls.
I realize that my room is almost the exact shade of a Port-o-John.
9:pm Sunday night:
I begin instant messaging Amy. I compare choosing this color to having an illicit affair and contracting a venereal disease. Such is the panic and shame I am having about this color.
It is now 9:44 pm on Sunday night. This color is...well...I don't really have words to describe it. It's very green in the artificial light. I think it's definitely robin's egg blue, though I may have overestimated my affection for a color which can change so radically from a delightful burst of joy into depressing fair ground port o john over the course of a day.
Tomorrow will bring one of two things:
1. I will learn to love this color.
2. I will return to the paint store.
The only thing I know for sure is that there will be chocolate. It never disappoints.