Mom had the kitchen retiled and house painted for the wedding. (Weddings, as I’ve said before, are her excuse for home renovations.) I like the house much better yellow. Dad had previously painted it a greyish-brown.
I told her it really ought to be red.
“The neighbors would kill me,” she said.
“Yeah, but you’d be the only one with a red house,” I said. “You could tell visitors, ‘Just look for the red house.’ They wouldn’t miss it.”
“It would look like a barn,” she argued.
She figures she’s taking enough of a risk painting the front door a dark red. I’ll have to work on her a little longer. Once I move there for the summer, I’m gonna try to talk her into letting me paint my room orange. I don’t think she’ll go for Day-Glo™, but maybe I can wear her down to a nice cantaloupe color…