My internal monolog is a chatter box. Talk, talk, talk, question, ruminate, debate, playing one side and then the other. My head is like a kindergarten class before naptime. Sometimes I can’t even get a word in edgewise, which probably seems pretty silly since they are all supposed to be my words. The truth is, what other people think, always finds a way, stealthily into the conversation. It’s not that I don’t value others opinions, but when they don’t have any skin in the game, well it’s hard to put too much faith in it.
This latest discussion goes something like this – if this were my house, I’d paint a navy stripe just about a half inch above the baseboard, or dustboard if you are an inventor of trends. My navy would be a shade so dark it would be reminiscent of the ocean, at a depth as deep as the resting place of the Titanic. It would start its journey in the entryway, purposefully and ever so orderly, marching its way up the stairs, feeling its way along the walls in the hallway, jumping over the break in the doors to stick the landing like an Olympic gymnast on the exact spot between door, casing, and wall, before continuing its march around the perimeter, a regimen of soldiers marching in formation at their commanders will. I of course, am the commander in this case, begging the painter not to squiggle outside the lines of my perfect formation, making its way around the quad (the small interior hallway of the second floor), before spilling its way down the staircase to its final star studded finish. If it were my house, that’s what I would do, but it is not.
How many buyers would I offend with my sense of style? I want my line to have punch, but designing the perfect punchline takes finesse, sophistication, mad skills, and when you have them, the pay off is huge. What if I don’t have that? What if the potential buyers think it’s a bad joke? What then? It’s only paint, but can I afford to turn someone off? These are the questions that shout their agreement and then their dissent – please, I am begging all of you to be quiet.
The thing of it is, stairs are often boring, utilitarian, necessary for sure, and much preferred to the ladder, having used a ladder for years to make my way into a loft, but the reality is – they get ignored. I think we can do better in our little Willow Bend property. What if I were to place a single wooden star applique on the center of the fifth riser, what if I put one on every riser? What if I dressed the treads in herringbone and I painted my baseboard stripe despite the protestations to keep it beige, to keep it boring? What if? Would you like it as much as me?