If you’ve had trouble finding green paint at your local hardware store recently, sorry. That was me. Who would have thought it could be so hard to pick a colour for one piddling little feature wall? With all that practice at combining colours for quilts and scrapbook pages it ought to be easy, but the green sample pots continue to mount up. My beloved reckons we’d have enough to paint the whole house green if we just combined them all. Such a helpful man. This is why I make the decorating decisions at our house.
When I can decide, that is. So far we’ve had greens that belonged in a lolly shop, greens that were too dark, greens with too much yellow, greens with too much blue and the dreaded green-that-looks-like-something-the-cat-sicked-up. The perfect Goldilocks “just right” green remains elusive.
On top of that, I don’t think the young guy at the paint counter is talking to me any more. Admittedly he’s not exactly on my Christmas card list either after stuffing up a previous paint order, but still. On yet another trip to the paint department recently Drama Duck was with me. He was in the middle of helping us and had just turned away to find some more colour samples when she said in one of those thunderous stage whispers kids use:
“Mum! Don’t trust him – he’s the one who gave us the wrong paint before!”
“Do you want to get us thrown out of Bunnings?” I hissed back.
Then, last weekend, the whole family went along (yes, we have a very exciting social life). The five of us walked up to the paint counter, saw he was the only assistant free, wheeled in unison and walked straight back out again. Plaintive cries of “but why are we going?” from Baby Duck floated in the air as we disappeared. With moves like that we could join a marching band.
But I think I’ll have to start going to another Bunnings.
Happy Birthday to you,
you’re in a green zoo.
You married a monkey,
but the kids are cute too!
Thanks for the birthday wishes. I like the poem — not sure what the monkey will think, though.
It is the middle of the night here on the west coast of America, and I’m making weird snorting noises over your green paint post, trying not to laugh out loud and wake the rest of the household. My little ducks are grownups now, but oh how your thoughts bring back the fun of being pecked by ducks.
It is kind of fun, isn’t it, in a masochistic sort of way — and you get to throw it in their faces for years afterwards too, which has got to be a good thing!
Thanks for dropping in, Pandababy.