Just Call Me a Bouncing Donkey

Captain Ahab and The Nana have always called me “Pooh”.  There.  The cat is officially out of the bag.  We shall never speak of this again.

Except for today.

Sweetman, after dating me for a little, and hearing all about this “Pooh” business, determined that I was much more like Tigger – full of way too much energy and enthusiasm for his Eeyeore-ish, don’t wake me before 11 a.m. personality.  Thankfully, he also determined we paired up pretty nicely and that I was a “keeper”.

I have my sunshiney moments.  Doesn’t everyone?  But since becoming a mother, they often seem perfectly juxtaposed with my downward facing dog moments.  And I’m not talking about Yoga here peeps.  I find this frustrating.  I’d like to be all “even steven”, like Sweetman.  But, my nature is a bit more, um…outward. Yeah, let’s go with outward. Throw in a few mid-month hormones, and… SHOO-EE, things get exciting up in here.

Well, things got a little, ahem, “exciting” around here yesterday. You see, there have been three, differently colored, 1 foot by 1 foot paint swatches on the wall of the front foyer for, oh, let’s just say somewhere in the ballpark of 8 months now. I had consulted everyone who walked through my front door numerous friends on the three choices and had arrived at a nice medium rubbed grey. I finally, finally, bit the bullet and got to it yesterday. It should come as no surprise, then, that I went from elation, over having enough time and energy to finally paint the foyer this week, to utter despair upon finding that the paint color is NOT a rubbed grey.  No. It’s not.  And, more unfortunately, I didn’t really “get it” until I’d painted the entire space.  All. Day. Long.

Sweetboy summed it up quite nicely when he walked downstairs this morning. “Mama, I LOVE the new blue foyer.”  Rats!  But, in case his color picker is off, you tell me.  Is this a rubbed gray looking color to you?

Not_Grey

‘Zactly!

So, of course as soon as poor Sweetman walked in the door from work, I gave him a dramatic rendering of the situation to rival any Downton Abby episode.  I assure you.  To that he replied,  “Ohkaaaaaay.”  I was clearly no longer Pooh-ish or Tigger-ish, but solidly in the Eeyore camp.

For some odd reason, this whole exchange tickled his funny bone. “I love you my little bouncing donkey.”, he said. Now, it’s hard to be mad when your husband calls you “little” anything, am I right? But this made me madder than a hornet.

“I just want the walls to be grey!”, I declared with what teeny tiny oomph I had left.

I asked him to go check out the color.   He took one quick look and confirmed that they were indeed blue.

So, this donkey bounced her keester right on up to bed, praying for renewed strength right up until my head hit the pillow. “Please Lord, you can turn water into wine.  Please, turn my blue walls grey!” I pleaded.

I woke up this morning feeling much better. Re-energized and Tiggerish, in fact.

Until I came down the stairs and saw the blue walls. Sigh…

Bouncing donkey, indeed.

Should I repaint them now?  Should I wait until the Spring?  Will I want to bother come Spring? Can Lowes come repaint for me since I am convinced they mixed my paint color wrong? Does a paint color really matter?  Questions, questions…