Can paint really make me forget about the death of my boyfriend’s mother? I’m not really sure, but I intend on trying. With the impending move-in date looming over my head I’m in a rush to pick out a paint color. Yes, we are moving home. Moving into my boyfriend’s mother’s house because she left it to him.
Currently the master bedroom in my house is an awful mauve. And I really mean awful. And yes I really said "my house." It’s not a neautral-ly mauve with peach undertones, but an awful 80s dark mauve that makes the fantastically sized bedroom look like a tiny dungeon.
I’m hoping that by changing the color of the bedroom from the big, bad mauve to a pretty vibrant green it will change the whole feel of the room. Mostly I’m just hoping that by painting it green I will be able to forget that a woman I deeply loved breathed in her last gasps of air staring at the mauve walls.
Moving home is stirring up all kinds of weirdness, not just because of my justified fear of the house. Home is a place with lots of mixed feelings. Home is somewhere that I know I can never truly go back to, but we are moving none-the-less.
Painting is happening this weekend. I know the house will become more and more ours and less and less Karen. But that process is both helpful and painful. Now on to Lowe's and the endless processes of packing and job hunting.
