My husband picked the paint colors for all the rooms in our new house except my office. I’m not sure how that happened as we’d been discussing them for months and none of what we walked away with is what we’d talked about. I must’ve been really out of it because I just kept saying, “Okay. That’s fine.”

However, it didn’t turn out fine at all. My husband flew back to our old home to get the moving van and I began to paint. The color for the living room is a mysterious paint. Sometimes it looked a sort of sick yellow. Other times it looked bright green. It depends on the time of day and the lighting. A friend came over and looked at the living room and the hallway and said, “I like the color in the living room a lot better.” I had to break it to him that they were same color…or same paint anyway. Yesterday, I went and bought a gallon of a totally different color and started over.

I guess the real problem is that I can’t whine and complain about all the painting I’m doing because my husband is driving the truck.

Our phone conversations go as follows:

Me: Oh, gosh, I’m soooo tired. I’ve been painting for six hours.

Him: Yeah, I’ve been driving a 22′ moving van for fourteen hours.

Me: I had to paint the living room TWICE!

Him: It’s really scary driving this 22 foot moving van through St. Louis and Kansas City. Traffic is really unnerving.

Me: It’s really hard to paint when you don’t have a kitchen sink and so you’re trying to wash brushes in the tiny bathroom sink.

Him: I hope there’s no wind in Kansas like when you and I crossed. Remember that RV that we saw that had gotten blown off the road?

OKAY! He wins!!!! He’s operating heavy machinery and I’m wielding a trim brush. But I’m still sore! And I’m still gonna whinge…just not to him.

What’s the last thing you painted?