I Broke My House

Previously at Discovering Asterisms, I told you that we're redoing our downstairs nearly completely. And I showed you our paint swatches, and excitedly went on about how we'd chosen something that could actually be classified as a color for our walls.

Last night we headed out to the Home Depot and bought five gallons of paint all set to get started. I had already left the house once that day for the adoption event, something that doesn't seem like it would be terribly taxing* but it is, so when we got back home I decided to call it an early night even by my old lady standards.

The Boyfriend, being an industrious sort, wasn't put off by his lazy girlfriend and set to painting the entry way.

So when I came downstairs this morning this is what greeted me:




It seemed too dark, but I didn't want to believe it. I rationalized it by saying that the lights weren't on yet and it was an overcast day so surely it was fine. Went to start the coffee (maybe being under caffeinated had affected my eyesight) came back, turned on the lights and then rent my hair and covered myself in sack cloth and ashes.

You see, I was the one who had grabbed the paint chip. I had given it to the paint guy and had five gallons of paint mixed up. And while I really like the color, it's so not what we decided on I can't even

For reference, here's what we decided on, compared to the original wall color:





And here's what the Boyfriend painted last night, with the paint chip of our chosen color:





That really says it all.

How, just how I managed to confuse the two last night without being so drunk I couldn't spell my own name I don't understand in the slightest.

I guess we could've picked out a lighter floor color to avoid having the house look like a cave if we kept the darker wall color, but then we're entering 'if you give a mouse a cookie' territory.

So, another trip to the store today for another five gallons of paint and some primer, because hello, dark. The Boyfriend tried to make me feel better by pointing out that he bought the wrong sort of rollers, so that practically made us even. Somehow I don't think a hundred dollars worth of paint is really comparable to the wrong sort of rollers, but I appreciated the effort.

Feh. I'd better get to priming.

*Several hours in a pet store talking about cats is apparently enough that I need a nap afterward. I blame the petting zoo like atmosphere that comes about from the kiddie craft classes next door.