We moved into my dream home — a beautiful 1834 farmhouse — in March. My mom was away the first week after our move, and I decided to surprise her by painting the front entryway, hallway and stairwell before she returned. This seemed like a good idea at the time. The previous owner had painted the walls a bright, blood red color — it looked like someone had stabbed a vampire to death. Not. Mellow.
What I did not consider, as I drove to the paint store, is that I’ve never actually picked out a paint color on my own — my mom has always helped me. What I did not realize, is that I actually have terrible judgement when it comes to paint colors.
I wanted something that would look “right” in an old house — a heritage color, if possible. And after agonizing over several hundred paint chips, I found it — a mellow, dusty rose that would look beautiful with the old wood floors and deep, white baseboards and trim.
The man at the store had recommended an oil-based primer, but had warned me that it might “splatter a bit.” I don’t want to criticize, but that’s like saying a blender might “splatter a bit” if you forget to put on the lid. Even when I moved at a snail’s pace, an aerosol-like spray of white dots shot off the roller. I was coated with white paint by the time I finished priming, and the only reason the floors weren’t completely ruined was because one of my kids followed behind me as I painted, frantically washing up the mess.
I plunged ahead, slapping on the first coat of dusty rose as the sun set. It seemed a bit pinkish, but I wasn’t worried. After all, I was covering up Vampire Blood Red — a color that is not easily tamed. I was squinting a bit as I put on the second coat of dusty rose, since there aren’t any lights in the stairwell, and no outlets to plug in lamps, there, either.
When the sun rose the next morning, the full horror of what I’d done was revealed. I had painted my beautiful old farmhouse Pepto Bismol Pink. It was such a hideous color that just looking at it made me irritable. As my kids fired off text messages, inviting their friends to come see what I’d done, I raced to the store to get a replacement color — this time, a deep, no-nonsense clay that matched the old can of paint I’d found in the basement. Two more thick coats, and the hallway was saved. In less than 30 hours, I’d added six layers of paint to walls that already had several coats of Vampire Blood Red slathered over four layers of old wallpaper. If the house ever collapses, I’m fairly certain those walls will still be standing. And the clay color? Since I didn’t pick it, it’s perfect.
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Despite the angst, at least you didn’t get an upset tummy…LOL
You’re hilarious! (although, I have to say, it WAS a nauseating color 🙂
Oh my gosh! Too funny, though I’m sure it wasn’t at the time. You must have been exhausted! Good thing you had a sense of humor about it! Did you get any pics before the change? I would think those would go in the family photo book. :O)
I DIDN’T take pictures, no! I was so busy trying to cover up the mess I’d made that it never occurred to me to take photos – and now I wish I had, because that’s (hopefully!) the last time I’ll ever see Pepto Bismol pink on walls, and it would have been worth preserving the memory!
When we were first married, I did the exact same thing in our guest bedroom. The whole room was this nauseating pink color & like you I picked out the paint w/out my mother’s help. Couldn’t get that room re-painted a soothing Mom-approved peach color fast enough. A learning experience, it was.
That’s too funny! I’d LIKE to think that our moms are good at picking out paint colors because they made lots of mistakes themselves in their earlier years. But my gut feeling is that I’m just unusually bad at judging paint chips, and will continue to be that way the rest of my life. My kids will probably paint their houses WITHOUT letting me help with the paint colors, just to protect themselves from vomitous pink rooms 🙂
See … there ARE some advantages to being colour blind!
That’s true! You’re probably one of the few people who wouldn’t have realized how horrendous the color truly was. Although…your color-blind Grandson could STILL tell that it was an awful color – every time he walked through the hallway, he would laugh and shake his head. So, it appears that I chose a color of paint that even color-blind people can see. Go figure!
Brenda, I understand you’re too busy actually having a life (Pepto-Bismol Pink disasters not-withstanding), but it’s such a pity you don’t post more often. Your posts are consistently delightful. I believe I have smiled, if not had a full-on belly laugh, while reading each one. Thank you!
Ever planning on posting pictures of your dream farmhouse?
Thank you so much, Tana! I should post pictures of my new house, you’re completely right. Of course, that would require understanding HOW to post pictures. Sadly, I’m a few steps away from that (I feel older and older every time I try to figure out something to do with the computer – I only recently discovered that you no longer need to type in “www” when plugging in a URL…