...but it is a little bit.
When my stress levels start to go up, I begin to pull things apart. By that I mean I obsessively reorganize everything within an inch of its life. You've been witnessing the chaos of my studio reorg but I got to thinking...why stop there?
I'm working on moving my storage unit home and I've decided that before I do that, I'm going to repaint my bedroom.
Sounds simple enough, right?
Yeah, I thought so too until the question came: what color?
So I got to brooding about it and talked with Mary about it and came to a sort of conclusion. When I had my condo I painted every single wall a color. There was not a scrap of white to be found in the joint. I loved it. One of my friends called it the Crayon Condo.
But I don't think I want to do that again. My bedroom is on the smallish side and when I say "color", I mean color. No wimpy pastels (no offense pastel lovers out there), they were all of the rich jewel tone variety. I am not afraid.
There in lies the dilema: I don't want an overbearing color in a small space but I can't abide pure white walls. (I blame my aversion to white on living in the dorms for five years at university.) So I went to Home Depot and grabbed all these:
I love earth tones in an unnatural way so the plan is to paint one wall a strong color and the other three neutral. But can someone please explain to me why in the world there are five billion shades of neutral? Seriously, its enough to drive someone over the edge.
I'm leaning toward this combination:
What do you think? Light bedroom furniture, a grand old antique crazy quilt hanging on the wall and some sort of new rug that I have not yet located. Sounds like a plan.
On a another note, this is what a westie that is grossly overdue for grooming looks like:
His fur has overtaken his face in such a way that his ears and eyes are threatening to be consumed by it. I'm saving this picture so when he finally does get groomed, we can have a lovely little makeover edition post.
He is my wooly baby. He now has permanent bed head, all his fur sticks up in every direction possible. It is incredibly pathetic and just makes him all the more lovable. And no, I am not intentionally growing him out so I can shear him and spin his fur. The vet said we have to wait until his eye is completely healed. Which should be soon.
He also cussed me out for taking that photo. So much so that mom yelled at me to quit taunting the dog. Made me nostalgic for my younger days when I used to steal my brother's Han Solo star wars figure and and hide it in the dirty laundry basket. Heh.