An unfortunate thing happened to my family this weekend.
I strayed too close to the wall of paint color chips at Big Orange.
It actually started on Wednesday, when I was at a family birthday party. I sat next to Jeff, who paints houses for a living. We started talking about historic home colors in Walla Walla, and a teeeeensy kernel of craziness popped in my brain.
The seed had already implanted itself. Uninvited. It started in June when Camo Man and I went to Wallowa Lake after our wedding. The weather was perfect for a honeymoon — cold, rainy and overcast. Meaning we did a lot of snuggling by the fire, watching romantic comedies and soaking in a …. never mind, that’s a whole different kind of post.
The “fire” was electric, but not like electric fires I’ve seen before. It was realistic and produced crackling heat and was ever-so-cozy. “Wouldn’t it be fun to have something like this in our bedroom,” I asked my new husband.
Poor guy. He was enchanted with this moment in time and agreed a faux fireplace would be very nice.
Once home, however, I could see problems. Three autumns ago, I repainted my bedroom and simplified the decor. However, I kept the sweet floral wallpaper on one wall and that was the only wall that would have worked for this fireplace idea.
So, no deal. I thought. Because a fake fireplace does not belong against a delicate print, in my opinion.
I was kidding myself.
In the last two months, I’ve mentally rearranged that bedroom twice a day. Some things are non-negotiable, like placement of the bed and how the room has corner windows. Which I used to hate but have grown to adore in the past 18 years of living in the Home Place.
Really, though, that one violets-and-roses wall is the only option. That means tearing down the wallpaper I still love…the wallpaper I’ve woken up to for a dozen years or so.
Which is, actually, way too long for any one wallpaper to have to perform. It might be in beautiful shape, but I’m asking it to keep making me happy, morning after morning.
Purely selfish of me, right?
Which brings us to paint chips. Every person in my family knows that when the chips fall at my house, on the kitchen counter specifically, the renovation train has left the station. Fully fueled.
I am currently enamored of raspberry-esque colors to complement the “Brandied Pear” on the other three walls. I am sure I will be at my favorite decorating store by day’s end to gather more luscious shades.
Then I’ll go home and tape everything up and peer at each chip 218 times in every sort of lighting before deciding anything.
Poor Camo Man. We are not even talking about the prep work, which can be considerable on 1946 plaster walls.
In the meantime, if you have anything to say about electric fireplaces, I need to know what you know. Send me a note at firstname.lastname@example.org.