How it is pretty, how I love it here. I may not have said that other people find it pretty and love it here, too.
I'm all humble like that, see.
Some people have asked me, since we "finished," (will we ever be finished? I think not,) decorating, to pick out the colors that should be slapped up on their walls, in their houses.
While it is flattering, to be sure, it isn't so much fun. I know what I like, what makes me sigh contentedly when I walk in my door every day. But to guess what might give someone else that satisfaction? Not so much. Give me a couple of Bailey's and coffee, show me a color wheel, and it might be easy to trick me into picking out something for you, though.
Sneaky sneaks.
When I pulled into Aunt Marie's driveway today, I thought maybe I should puke before I went inside, as to not mess up the freshly painted walls.
Freshly painted, with the colors I. Picked. Under the influence of said Bailey's.
Gah.
It turns out, they are lovely. Just perfect really. Brown, and beige and red. Hmm, that sounds a bit bordello-y, but it isn't, I swear!
Aunt Marie hasn't seen it yet, and I've left firm instructions with those that live with her that should she not like it, I've moved. Out of the country.
Quit drinking, too.