Giant coloring book

Fleetwood Mac playing in the background, worn-out jeans, stained t-shirt (rescued from my oldest son's bag of hand-me-downs some years ago), and frantic paintbrushes and roll. I had been ready to make some changes and add a little bit of anchoring energy in my environment for a while. After 10 months of living in the House of Enchantments, and with the sense of renewal and light that comes with spring in the form of my mother's visit, I decided to continue to address one of the aspects I find the least enchanting about my home: its pervasive greyness. Grey has too many negative associations from the decoration style that was often the default in the 1980s, during my adolescence, not my fondest phase in my lifetime, to be completely honest. 

As some of you may recall, the flooring and all the cabinets were grey when I moved in (yes, grey was all the eye could meet on the numerous ones in the kitchen area and in the 3 bathrooms). Even the tiles above the kitchen counter are grey. Interestingly, after my very first visit to this house that made me feel so transported and hopeful, as I was walking through the different rooms in my memory and trying to imagine myself living in the space, I somehow erroneously recalled the kitchen cabinets as being BLUE. To quote my friend Renée, there is no reality, only perceptions. So one can say that at some deep level, I had perceived this kitchen to be blue (in the present, or envisioning the future). I had wanted it this way, unconsciously, therefore my need or desire created this lens through which I was seeing this room where I spend so many hours of my awake time. Or it was simply my creative imagination that was two steps ahead...

Anyway, I was determined to make that happen. Since I lack experience with that kind of projects, I had tackled the small bathroom first (my 6-dollar makeover, see previous blog). I liked the result, so I felt I could do that, with some help since quite a few cabinet doors are big and the whole painting process go beyond the coloring book aspect of the task to include putting blue tape, removing handles, drawers, and unscrewing all hinges to remove doors, between painting sessions in my spacious garage, suddenly turned into a lively workshop. Saturday morning, my mother and I had a decent breakfast (croissants from the oven), fruit and coffee before starting. We worked almost non-stop until lunch, during which I also prepared dinner. It was rainy and unusually cold for that time of year, so perfect weather to do home improvement. I appreciated how meticulous my mother was. We were a great team. Then, we stopped at the end of the afternoon for a well-deserved break when my friend Julie visited for one hour. It was nice to pause and take in progress and have gratitude for that. At first, the blue had appeared too metallic for me, like modern kids' bedroom furniture, but as the paint dried off, and like it always does, it became darker, so closer to the indigo I had selected. I was pleased with the difference it made. The corner that we could put back together at the end of the day already felt very welcoming. We worked for a few more hours before bedtime. We had painted two big sections, and I already had my plan with an effective sequence of tasks for the next day.

Sunday, I was wide awake at 6:40, so we started not long after 7 am, and continued until lunch, after 1 pm.  Tossed in an awkward corner to unscrew a tiny screw, I marveled at the fact that I could use muscles I don't typically solicit. Squatting, climbing, bending, carrying. Like household-applied yoga. I still felt great despite some rebellious screws (one necessitated quite a bit of Valsalva maneuver, and then I remembered my age and gestational history, which got me a bit worried and made me do some intermittent Kegeling through the remainder of the day as a precaution...). As the day progressed, I was feeling like another modern version of Sisyphus' myth, noticing more doors to paint every time I thought I had made some progress. It felt endless. The guy at the store had told us that with the quality of the paint, one coat would probably be enough. I had prepared myself for two. It turns out that there was quite a bit of touch up to do even after that. I felt increasingly saturated, unqualified and unmotivated. I am very good at staring projects, but not so much at completing them if their turnaround drags for too long. Looking at the inside of the cupboards (and noticing how the cheap shelves from this construction dating back to 1982 bent under the weight of ingredients) made me grumpy. I wanted such shameful disharmony out of my sight, and fast. I had already decided many hours ago that I would not paint the interior of the doors. I could simply not fathom redoing the whole process... This would have to wait for another pandemic plus quarantine. I decided to put back on some doors, even if the result was imperfect, which I was seeing even more that second day, now that the sun was finally up...Some of the big doors would no longer align properly so they clashed a bit in the middle, preventing adequate closure (and repeatedly chipping the fresh paint, adding even more touch-ups on the list). And I had made sure I would put the same pairs at the same location, but somehow, life was throwing me in a never-ending game of cruel IKEA-Tetris. I could not believe that with all the hard work, I would be greeting an unfinished, gutted kitchen, as I was finally going to bed full of aches in my body.

Monday morning arrived, with the stress of finalizing taxes and other deadlines. I had some time between patients to screw a door here and there with my mom's assistance and tried to think of the symbolism or significance of these misaligned doors in my life, and also the earring saying LOVE that my mom found in the silverware drawer (from a pair offered by Ken as a present last Christmas and that I thought lost forever). There is still a second coat needed on a few doors, and a final touch on most areas. But at least the space is livable. And whenever I will feel a moment of stress, I will have a giant coloring book so readily accessible if I need to depart from my head and surround myself with some ocean of Zen blue.