My bookshelf is in the middle of the room with stacked books surrounding.
A ladder stands in the center of our bedroom. The jetted tub that hasn't jetted for years, is enclosed in concrete instead of tile. The holes in the walls are waiting for patchwork.
The new tub won't be here until the end of September, but at least it will beat the carpet.
Welcome to Green Acres.
We are exasperated Eddie Albert and go-with-the-flow Eva Gabor.
Tony likes order, precision, specific dates; I like to wait until one project is finished so I can more easily visualize the next. I like to savor the evolution; Tony likes to shower.
It's taken me months to decide on the right paint color and the study, the bedroom and bathroom walls are striped in different shades to determine the true color under different exposures of light. After a few trips to the paint store, after reducing Mild Blue in half and adding Starry Night, we may have the color for the bedroom/bath.
We scrutinize the wall closely, the painter, the husband the wife. Tony tries to convince me that the new color differences whether painted on Wendy's Frosty Brown or on Mild Blue, are just an illusion. I wickedly doubt.
But Eva Gabor (as Lisa Douglas), is my inspiration. In Hooterville, things always turns out. Lisa is happy whether Oliver falls through a hole in the roof or whether the plumbing is connected or not. She trusts happenstance, makes due, and always wears a gown or dress like she's parading Park Avenue.
So when the painter returns with the purchased paint, when he coats one wall, when he calls for Tony, and says, "This isn't the color Pat picked out," Tony dreads the imagined inevitable.
But when he shows me the wall, ---I laugh.
Because it's Green Acres, and at the end of the episode it will all turn out.
Over the next few days, I vacillate between "This looks good," to "I don't think so," to "We can always repaint if it doesn't look good," which turns Tony into exasperated Oliver Douglas.
In the days following, we attend church, under tightly-controlled circumstances: blocked off benches, masks, back to front row exiting, and prohibition of socializing in the chapel.
In the quiet moments, I contemplate the color of the walls which seem strangely familiar to the color I'd finally settled on. After not attending church for eight months in this chapel, I remember how somber the bluish gray color is.
We return home, discuss the color and without reservation, declare that the mistaken blue on the wall is really a beautiful, soothing color for our room. I whisper, "God moves in mysterious ways."
For the mistaken color turns out to be the right color.
A ladder stands in the center of our bedroom. The jetted tub that hasn't jetted for years, is enclosed in concrete instead of tile. The holes in the walls are waiting for patchwork.
The new tub won't be here until the end of September, but at least it will beat the carpet.
Welcome to Green Acres.
We are exasperated Eddie Albert and go-with-the-flow Eva Gabor.
Tony likes order, precision, specific dates; I like to wait until one project is finished so I can more easily visualize the next. I like to savor the evolution; Tony likes to shower.
It's taken me months to decide on the right paint color and the study, the bedroom and bathroom walls are striped in different shades to determine the true color under different exposures of light. After a few trips to the paint store, after reducing Mild Blue in half and adding Starry Night, we may have the color for the bedroom/bath.
We scrutinize the wall closely, the painter, the husband the wife. Tony tries to convince me that the new color differences whether painted on Wendy's Frosty Brown or on Mild Blue, are just an illusion. I wickedly doubt.
But Eva Gabor (as Lisa Douglas), is my inspiration. In Hooterville, things always turns out. Lisa is happy whether Oliver falls through a hole in the roof or whether the plumbing is connected or not. She trusts happenstance, makes due, and always wears a gown or dress like she's parading Park Avenue.
So when the painter returns with the purchased paint, when he coats one wall, when he calls for Tony, and says, "This isn't the color Pat picked out," Tony dreads the imagined inevitable.
But when he shows me the wall, ---I laugh.
Because it's Green Acres, and at the end of the episode it will all turn out.
Over the next few days, I vacillate between "This looks good," to "I don't think so," to "We can always repaint if it doesn't look good," which turns Tony into exasperated Oliver Douglas.
In the days following, we attend church, under tightly-controlled circumstances: blocked off benches, masks, back to front row exiting, and prohibition of socializing in the chapel.
In the quiet moments, I contemplate the color of the walls which seem strangely familiar to the color I'd finally settled on. After not attending church for eight months in this chapel, I remember how somber the bluish gray color is.
We return home, discuss the color and without reservation, declare that the mistaken blue on the wall is really a beautiful, soothing color for our room. I whisper, "God moves in mysterious ways."
For the mistaken color turns out to be the right color.
The discombobulated study before it's painted.
Comments