I spent the last few days painting the bedroom pink.  Some of the more observant amongst you might have noticed that the previous pattern was big yellow and blue checks.

Perhaps you wondered how I could endure that.  Well, I couldn’t endure it.  So stop wondering.

When the wife and I moved into this room a few months ago the walls were painted in this aggravating fashion. The previous tenant had allowed her children to paint their rooms. The child who painted this one suffered from Tourettes. I suspect that he spent so much time swearing on the patio because the other option was being in this room.

The giant bright checks induced a quasi-Lovecraftian madness. A strange side effect was that the room constantly looked messy. One could not help but feel an urge to put away those bright splotches of color.  And, finally, this week, I did.

Although there is some more work to be done, I’m pleased with the results.  I have even told the wife to expect to find me luxuriating on the bed in my pink suit and perhaps eating a bowl of strawberry ice-cream.

In the meantime, I have a sort of painting fever. Until it passes, I’m afraid that she’ll have to look forward to me painting everything I see.