We closed on our house Thursday. After a minor (yes, only minor) meltdown, I was off to the races to pick paint colors. I’ve been living in white and beige apartments so long that my heart called out to a color–any color–to save it. “Please Mr. Yellow (yes, Yellow is male), please help me.” (Mr. Yellow didn’t win out so far. Mr. Green and Ms. Blue did. And yes, Blue is female. Take that patriarchy!)
So Friday after I got an obligatory appearance at work out of the way, I dove into some painting clothes and into a project I didn’t understand the depths of until it was too far underway to stop it. I’ve painted before–but never on my own. I’ve never planned the project, bought the materials and followed through until the end. I’ve just hopped in and out where I’ve felt like it and watched the rest unfold (or stand still as it did so many times in my home growing up) and pitched in where I felt the urge. No one reminded me of that prior to engaging in this project. Suffice it to say that by Friday afternoon I was awash in a sea of questions, doubts and misgivings.
But with help from Mom and Dad and Mr. CVD, my two first painting projects–our living room and our bedroom–are 90% complete. And looking mighty fine, if I do say so myself (and I do).
These projects and my lack of preparation got me thinking that this is more than just a happenstance along the way of life. It reminded me that this, in fact, is the way I approach most things. I kind of plow into them head-first and ask questions later. One day when I was about fifteen I was sick of all of the posters and pictures on my wall. So I tore them and all of my wallpaper down. I decided yellow was a good color and convinced my parents to invest in the project. Months later, sleeping in a bedroom with the furniture perpetually pushed together so people could work on the walls, I quesitoned my committment and allowed them to finish the project.
I could probably think of countless projects like my childhood bedroom where I was anxious to start, blessed with grand ambitions, but frightfully lacking in the follow-through department.
That’s not the point of this tale, though.
The point is that for once, I’m close to finishing something. Granted, I have had help, but damn it, I’m on my way to seeing a project through from conception to completion, having been there every step of the way. It’s not just a blue bedroom and a green living room that I have to look forward to–it’s the knowledge that I can complete a project without getting so frustrated as to throw the towel in, abandoning all hope of completing it.
I’ll take the small victories where I can have them. And this, I’d say, is a medium sized one at worst and a good start on a larger one at best.
I’ve picked out a few colors for my spare bedroom/writing room. If I start and complete that, we’ll claim another victory for the soul.