I sit in the middle of a half-painted room.
Green painter’s tape encases the semi-white trim of my stairwell. A gallon of Swiss Coffee paint sits opened two feet from me, a two-inch paint brush on the newspaper-covered floor next to me.
I am tired.
Two years ago, David and I remodeled our kitchen. We took out a wall, replaced the cabinets, and painted it – white.
White has a dramatic effect on a small house. The walls look cleaner, less enclosing, somehow. And when I saw the kitchen results, when I realized how much white opened up the room I spend the most time in, I thought, maybe I should keep going with this color.
So I did. I stretched the Sandstone Cove into the hallway and down the stairs.
But I got tired.