Monday, March 01, 2004

Scarlet Letter

The back room, with all the bookcases, is "Daisy Heart." I painted it, and our "Primavera" bedroom, with energies stoked by a throb of rage at the sorry woman who sold us this house.

Now I'm painting the space that will become my office, and the names of the paint chips are apt to throw me. Will my new desk be "Scarlet Letter" or "Tulip Time"? Will the existing brown walls ("Dirty Depression" in my mind) need priming before officially going "Cerulean?" And what about the rest of the upstairs? Will it be "Picture Perfect," "Yellow Grass," or "Season's Promise"? I'm partial to the latter, although it's a bit bright. "Picture Perfect" should probably be my choice, but its name sounds too smugly obedient for what I want this room to be.

Today I took a giant step. (It was either that or end it all.) It's better to be moving, so I don't even mind the ten thousand staples I'll soon have to pluck from my study floor. "Underneath the cobblestones, the beach." Underneath this hateful carpet, stage one of a new world.


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