I've been in such a funk over the past week. The thoughts have been swirling and dancing in my head, but I've been unable to form them properly on paper, and therefore they remain stuck, and I remain stuck, and even though the snow is light and airy and the atmosphere has been warm and cheerful and fun, my thoughts have been dark and frustrated and discontented and unsettled. I can't write about it now and couldn't over the past week, leaving me feeling elated at school closings and blah, blah, blah at my own attitude.
So I've done what I do and thrown myself into a project, because this week has been the perfect project week.*
*Actually, I started this project like a month ago, but have only had little bits and pieces of time to work on it. A little here, a little there, and what should take maybe a week has mushroomed into what could be a two-month-long process.
|The Originals. So blah.|
I have these cabinets in my basement. They are...not my favorites, they are builder-chosen, they are ugly and I hate them. This is first-world entitlement talking, and I'm sorry. I am a house snob. There. I've said it and you'll probably agree and probably agree again when I say this is why people call me and then pretend like it's a wrong number. (I'm just kidding, this doesn't happen. I don't think.) Anyways, I am painting these cabinets. Here's my inspiration photo, because you must have a houzz.com or pinterest inspiration photo to go by or else you aren't legit. (Just kidding. You totally are legit.)
"Black", I told my grandma, who A) will not remember our convo and B) is one of the few adults I've actually conversated (is it a word? I don't care. Go with it.) with this week. I've also talked to Victoria, who I only talk/text to every single day because I heart her and she hearts me back. And a few neighbors. And a whole lotta kids. (Don't get me started on texting. Totally a sore subject right now, seeing as how some just don't.)
"Black", I say to grandma.
"BLACK?????" she screeches back into the phone. She forgets, among other things, that I can hear better than her 91-year-old ears can. "BLACK????" she says again. "Heather!! Black? In a basement? You'll make that room so dark and depressing. It's just depressing, child. Black cabinets. I never. Are you sure? BLACK?" (MY cabinets are white, she reminded me. Yes, I am aware. Thank you for the reminder that your cabinets are indeed white. I heart them very much. White would not work in my basement, but we will not discuss further as you already doubt my decor intuition. Moving on.)
"Grandma, you forget that I have very refined and sophisticated taste and nothing I've ever done to any of my houses has ever looked bad", I inform her. Which is not entirely true, (I mean, I guess it's not entirely true, but I can't think of a single example to make it untrue. Huh.)
Black. Is. Awesome.
So here you go. Goodbye, oak. Hello, swarthy, dark, somber, murky black. Perfect for my basement.
And my mood.