Painting

I get annoyed by His idiosyncrasies sometimes. I have wondered if He has had the same feelings towards mine. I believe that some quirky, distinctive personality characteristics are innate. I fully acknowledge a certain, shall we gently say, vexatious personal characteristic. It revolves around aesthetic values; arrangement, placement, line, shape, and color. I can eye straight lines, create near true geometric shapes, and recognize compatible hues and tones. The most problematic aspect of my condition is sensing minuscule discrepancies in horizontal and vertical exactness, which I am compelled to fix. He has had many years to acclimate to my behavior. In the beginning, when I said we needed to rehang, move, straighten, or repaint something that we had just barely finished doing, He would complain that it wasn't necessary. However, my inner turmoil would require me to re-do it on my own. Eventually He decided that it was easier to accommodate my mental aesthetic harmony than fight it.

I had been looking for the perfect gold color for my bedroom walls. I painted them four times during the course of one  month. Not just one, but three coats of paint for each color. Although each application technically matched the gold hue I was looking for it seemed "off" somehow. One day I decided that what would satisfy my harmonious color craving was a true metallic gold color. That afternoon when He came home from work expecting to finally sleep in His bed that night, He found me instead applying a fifth color choice. Painting with metallic paint requires quite a bit more time and effort that ordinary latex paint. In fact, it took two base coats, three metallic coats, and two coats of glaze (which is a whole different process altogether). However, when it was finished it "felt" right (and it absolutely glows in the sunlight). 

It has been a little over six years and I am ready for a change. I do not expect to struggle with the same color issues as before since I am just painting the walls a cream color. He however, knows that there is no such thing as just one cream color. In fact, He has been so well prepped by my pickiness that He knows that the endless variations of "whites" are more troubling to me than any other color ( I can see the yellow, or blue in them). When I told Him it was time to paint again all He said was "really?" (with just the slightest sigh). He is now quietly (the optimum word here), anticipating not just painting, but picture rehanging, furniture moving, rug re-rolling, and all the minute adjusting that these imply.

He quietly endures...

...one more reason I love Him.