soapboxdiner

This is all over the place, but mainly deals with funky colors

I'm going to paint my kitchen walls orange-red. Then I'm going to paint my recessed kitchen wall(s) apple/khaki/new daffodil shoot green. I haven't decided which. Then I think I'll carry that rich terra cotta-y meditteranean orange into the bedroom - which you can catch glimpses of from the living room that abuts the kitchen, which obscures the hall/bedroom combo.

I don't know what I'll do with the 10 foot archway that separates the kitchen from the living room - yet. Something tells me it will probably stay the day-old puke gray-green color of the living walls on the one side, and the orangey color on the kitchen side.

Have I mentioned that I have a cornucopia of variously shaded wood-type products in my house? They're all orange undertoned, but none of them are exact matches. Which is still an improvement on yesteryear's excrement-brown/metallic copper decor. Though I was awfully proud that the 30 year old burnt orange lazyboy matched as perfectly as if planned.

But now we're going the sunny/casual route with greens, reds, oranges and yellows. And really, it only sounds as if it sears the eyes in all it's abounding radiation-effect glory.

Oh, and I want my new wall sconces to lay near-flush and be made of sexy-fun-curvy silver/chrome/nickel.

And another oh. I want to tile my shower. Again, I'm thinking meditteranean (that's spelled wrong, isn't it?) ocean-type colors. I haven't looked into this too much though.

I sweartoGAWD, if I don't stop this soon, I will be flat broke. Yeah, and now that the living room is done, my mother suggested that after eight years of living here, I might want to start considering actually buying this place from her. Pish. What's the rush? After all, this suggestion comes from the lady whose been shacking up with the stepdad for a quarter of a century. I figure, she must be a patient woman.

Who knows. Maybe, maybe not. When I think of the terms "first home" and "first time buyer incentive", I don't picture squandering the break on a $10,000 hunk of aluminum, you know?

P.S. My hair is 2.5 inches shorter than it was when I got up this morning, and it has fancy new layers. I love my new fancy layers. The salon had a deal on half-price waxing, too. So now I don't have a unibrow anymore.

I think I'm going uptown. Don't tell the pedicure ladies though. They probably wouldn't believe it after the feet-approving incident of Saturday's pedicure. I mean it - they freaked me out! When my consultant called the matron over to look at my feet, I seriously thought she was going to call in SWAT or the EPA or those plastic bubble tent containment people. And really, my feet ARE NOT EITHER that funky.

Stop laughing at me. I was born a poor black child in the backwoods of Montana. This excuses many of my foibles. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

11:16 pm - 04.07.03
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