I'm in the middle of getting the house painted. For a few weeks, I've browsed decorating sites, pored over all the decorating magazines I can find, peered through the windows of houses when unoccupied, and come up with hundreds of wonderful schemes which have to be debated over when the next one comes along.
More important has been the question of which painter to employ? When its a question of workmen,as with an omelet, its you who have to do the waiting. After a couple of weeks of waiting, I've settled for a different one finally. And when its workmen vs woman, all the guile you are capable of has to be brought into full play. If I put in so much effort into my marriage, life would be different:-)
Family is alway non supportive in the matter of choosing colours. Of course, they are always happy to view the end results of your deliberations critically. So I've just decided to go with the colours that appeal to me right now. Thinking of grey skies that we have for more half the year, bright colours that should cheer me up seem right.
Still, when I view the shocking pink that is appearing on the walls instead of the old rose I envisaged, I seem to need dark glasses myself. And there is brilliant green and sea blues and golden yellows yet to come. I seem to have pulled in all sorts of old fashioned mitai colours.
But, I've been given a book on 'Traveling with Che Guevara' at the right time . Looking at life from the perspective of Alberto Granado , what do the colours on the wall matter? A house has such narrow boundaries.
There's a whole world beyond it and its the colours of life and the outlook on the world around that do.