I’ve been here eight weeks. Eight weeks doesn’t sound like a long time, but it’s a long time for me not to feel… home. I look at the walls and feel it’s a place I am staying and not home even though Pele is here and all my possessions are here. I return to this building after running errands and feel like I am just coming to a place. There is no “this is mine” feel. It feels foreign.
A home is more than a place to live. A home needs to reflect the personality of the occupant. It’s not a place to simply touch base, but a place to be settled into, to feel safe and be comfortable. It’s that rock of solidity to return to after being out and about. It’s a place to be totally yourself and where you don’t have to “put on face” for anyone.
This place is getting there. I like the smaller size and being on one floor. The rooms are big enough and there are not too many. The master en-suite renovation is complete but for the walls being painted and this has made a big difference. It may be a tiny bathroom, but the new walk-in shower, vanity, fixtures, and toilet make it special. After all, how much time do you spend in a bathroom? I can’t wait until the walls are painted and I can get the towel racks put up and a couple pictures on the walls. To get one room totally and completely done will be a big accomplishment.
Nan McCarthy has been phenomenal in spending at least one afternoon a week helping me to go through things, organize, and continue to make disappear what I don’t need. I don’t know what I would have done if not for her. We have made some great progress and I am finally starting to feel better about it all. (I have to admit, this was the hardest move I have ever made in my entire life of 60 plus years).
The goal this week is to start painting the walls. The painter was supposed to start tomorrow (Tuesday), but is behind. “Customers keep asking for one more thing,” he explained. I totally understand and already have more to ask of him, too. He’s hoping to start Wednesday or Thursday which I interpret as maybe Friday and I know I may end up waiting until next week.
Why are painted walls so important to me? I’ve been sitting here trying to figure out how to explain it. People have come in and wondered why the neutral beige-grays are so appalling to me. Oh, I know the spiel: you add pops of color with window treatments and décor. But a “pop of color” isn’t enough.
For me, it’s almost like dull colors dull the brain. The neutral blah colors are just not me. They don’t make me happy; don’t give me the warm, fuzzy feelings. The blahness of the walls brings down my whole demeanor. The lack of pretty color is boring. It’s hard to feel motivated and with little natural light, it’s even more depressing.
How do I combat the less natural light? By having the walls painted a beautiful color! Oh, I’m not talking garish, fluorescents. The colors will be rich and vibrant. The wall color will show off my drawings and photographs. Perhaps this doesn’t conform to the current interior design trends, but these colors are for me. I don’t have to please anyone else and I don’t have to plan “… when you sell…” (One of my pet peeves is buying something and having them push the re-sale value. Hey, I’m just making the purchase. I don’t care about re-sale!)
Of course this isn’t the end of the renovation, but Sasha-fying the inside will be a giant step and help get me through the long winter.
And so, I can’t WAIT to get the walls painted! Then as I hang pictures, this place will truly become mine. I want to show it off. I hope you will want to visit.
No comments:
Post a Comment