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Pinkrastination

 

  We have a room in our home that we call “the office”. Like many homes out there, the office has a desk where the computer sits. And it has a TV that we watch our shows on at night (Biggest Loser and HGTV mostly, I know you were wondering). Like many “offices”, it is messy. Piles of papers that need to be filed and other clutter litter the landscape. The office also becomes the storage area for items that have no other home, like my baseball cards and the remote control car I’ve been meaning to play with. And, like many offices, it is painted pink. Not a hot pink, which would be distracting, but a nice, muted soft pink for that soothing feeling.

 Wait, did you just say your home office is not pink? Why ever not? Have you not heard that baby pig pink is the preferred color of 74.8% of home offices in the United States? Alright, I admit, I may be exaggerating that number a bit. Or, maybe I made it up completely (63.6% of statistics are made up on the spot). Actually, I’m sure our office is one of maybe three or four in the Western world that is pink.

 I’m sure you’re wondering why our office is pink. It’s a simple answer, it was our daughter’s room. We painted it pink for her when she was four. We had just moved into the house and pink seemed like a good girl color. Six years later, we switched her room and our old office because she need a slightly bigger room. We painted her new room orange one week (yes, orange, at least it wasn’t puce) and we thought we would paint over the pink in the office pretty quickly after that. That was two years ago. I would call it procrastination, but the office is still a baby pig pink, so let’s call it pinkrastination.

 We even bought a can of paint and some supplies a few months ago, thinking that would motivate us to get started. Well, since we had stared at pink walls for the last two years, staring at a can of paint in the room wasn’t the motivator we thought it might be. The can sits there in the corner of the room, mocking us and feeling sorry for itself:

Can: Hey, you! Feel like painting today? (snickering loudly) 
Me: Maybe. I think I could get that started. 
Can: Yeah, whatever, sport. Do you even remember what color I am? 
Me: Yes, I do. You’re a sort of gray-blue, maybe. 
Can: Good for you, ace. So why don’t you pop my top and get started? 
Me: Your fumes are so overpowering, though, and it’s winter so we can’t really open the window... 
Can: More pinkrastination. Way to go, tex. My life sucks.
And, yes, I do talk to my paint can. Like you haven’t ever done that.

 It’s difficult to explain the pink office walls to other people when they see them. As if pink wasn’t a natural color for a home office. I find myself making excuses like, “It was our daughter’s room” or “We’re planning to paint it soon.” I should be proud of the statement we are making by leaving the walls this color. That statement is “I really don’t want to paint today. Maybe tomorrow.” It’s bold. It’s decisive. It lets me sit on the couch and watch TV instead.

 The irony is, we will often sit on the couch and watch home improvement shows. HGTV is one of our favorites. Watching rooms be transformed in the space of 60 minutes. We get inspired to get up and start painting our walls. And then I realize that 60 minutes later, the walls will still be pink and I’ll be tired of painting. One of my favorite shows is called House Crashers. The concept is that this contractor approaches unsuspecting people at a Home Depot or Lowe’s and offers to renovate a room or two in their house for free. Strangely, it takes him about ten tries each show before someone will agree to it. He needs to come to my Home Depot. I would be hunting him down aisle by aisle. Of course, that would mean I’d actually have to go to Home Depot with plans to work on the house.

 Even as I type this, I’m sitting in our office staring at the pink walls, willing them to be less pink. It’s not working. I guess I need to look at this from a glass-is-half-full perspective, it could be worse. We could have chosen an avocado green or canary yellow. Or some sort of horrendous floral wallpaper. Oh, wait, that’s the kitchen.

Comments

AmyR said…
Ohmygoodness, yes! The office at my old house had baby nursery wallpaper until two days before it went on the market. We owned the darn thing for 8 years and never once had a baby.
jdkohrs said…
I hate to admit this in a public forum, but I had flowered wall paper in my room until I was 17 years old. Apparently, I was a late bloomer.

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