August 11th, 2008
When colour swatches lie
There were a lot of things that I fell in love with when I first saw this house. There’s a wall that curves in to the living room from the front entrance and another in the upstairs hallway (which, in turn, means one of Oliver’s bedroom walls is curved, too). There’s a sweet little sun porch off of the den and the kitchen was redone recently; it’s got more cupboards than I ever dreamed of AND a breakfast bar AND it overlooks the den AND the dishwasher has a water saving “smart wash” button AND the window is over the sink, looking in to the backyard, which is big. The layout is open and the storage is ample. In short, there are a lot of reasons why we knew right off that this house was The One.
There was a lot that it needed, too, which fell in line with what we were looking for: a house with good bones that we could make our own. The shortlist included starting the window replacing and giving the downstairs bathroom a serious facelift. The sun porch needed a new roof; we guessed its frame and sections of its wood floor would last a year at most…and then there was the living room/dining room.
Two words about that room: absolute disaster.
The walls. Half were plaster, painted off-white. The other half sported wood paneling. Dark wood paneling. Dark wood paneling that the previous owners, it appeared, had treated over the years with oil. The paneling completely ate up the fairly simple, yet quite regal oak fireplace (the green and white faux marble tiles around the gas insert, though rather unfortunate, are bearable). The wood trim around the large front window was badly scratched, no doubt by a dog, and the carpet…well, to each is own, but as soon as I laid eyes on the vast expanse of royal blue wall-to-wall (and by “vast expanse” I mean all through the living/dining room, up the stairs and down the hall), I knew it HAD TO GO.
The first thing we wanted to do was paint, and over the last several months we’ve gotten quotes from various painters. We decided that, given the size of the project and the fact that two bright-eyed, bushy-tailed children also live here, we’d have it painted professionally. The prices were discouraging: the highest came in at $1,500 and by the time the spring rolled around and yard sale season was upon us, the lowest was $1,100 (though I was also asked to write a college-level final term paper in exchange for painting services. I respectfully declined.)
And then it got nice out and once again, yard sales were abloom. On many Saturdays Dave and the kids were on the road by 8.30a.m. in search of an incredible fifty-cent find while I drooled on my pillow in bed (don’t get me wrong – I love yard sales just as much as the next guy, but at this point in my life? I like sleeping in better), and it was at a yard sale that Dave happened upon a local painter who agreed to stop by and give us a quote. He came in much lower than any of the others: $850.
SOLD.
It pained Dave – PAINED THE MAN – to pay that much for a paint job but the fact was, painting that room was too much work (and we are lazy). The wood paneling needed to be cleaned first and then painted with a special primer. All of the trim needed to be painted, including going up the (carpeted) stairs and the railing, and the ceiling needed a fresh coat, too – it would have taken us days to finish. Hiring painters was, for me, priceless, in terms of convenience. So we booked this guy and his partner, and the week before they were set to start they dropped by with sample rings. Although they came unannounced I had a good idea of what Dave and I wanted for the room, so I picked two colours that I thought went well together.
I just want to, at this point, pause and express how excited I was to have the room painted. I hated that room with a passion – hated the wood paneling and the way it drowned out all of our other wood pieces, hated the fugly blue carpet, the bulky, ugly sheers…I hated it all. The room wasn’t an expression of our tastes at all; we’d put up very little art, there was nothing out, no personality. The room was bland, yet there was so much potential, so much to highlight. I couldn’t wait to get going on the transformation.
The painters came and for two days our lives were somewhat disrupted but the guys were friendly. They did a good job, and quickly. But about halfway in to the project I got this sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, a feeling that only intensified with time.
I hated the colour. Correction: one of the colours. The green I’d picked, to go alongside the buttery-cream colour on the plaster walls, I hated it. It had looked really great on the paint sample – really fucking great, truly – but up on those walls, in a fairly large room with lots of natural light, and in stark contrast with the deep blue carpeting? It was hospital ward green.
I had chosen hospital ward green for my living/dining room.
FUCK. Fuckity-fuckity-fuck fuck.
I knew before it had dried that it would have to go; there was no way in hell I could live with that colour on my walls. NO WAY IN HELL. I mean, you stood in that room and you either felt like you were in an aquarium, a hospital or a cottage circa 1950. Dave tried to convince me that he liked it at first but after about twelve hours he broke and agreed that it HAD TO GO, the sooner the better. He called the painters and explained the situation; they all had a good laugh – at my expense, I think, but whatever, it’s expected – and agreed to come back and re-paint the green walls for a small fee.
But the small fee turned out to be not-so-small. Half of the original price, $850, was mentioned initially, but the firm price was $375.
To put two coats on half of a living/dining room.
Three hundred and seventy-five dollars.
We may be lazy, but we’re not suckers.
So. Guess what I’m doing tomorrow? I’m painting the living/dining room. We picked a new colour, a strong, sage-ish green, and while I’m excited, very, about covering up the hideous colour that’s on the walls now, I am dreading, completely dreading, painting that room. Because?
I HATE PAINTING.
*sigh* Wish me luck, yo.
