“Do you like this wall color?” I asked Glenn a week or so later. We were seated on the living room sofa, enjoying a glass of wine in the late afternoon. “I’m tired of eggshell white.”
He looked around and shrugged. “Works for me, but if you want a change, let’s do it.”
Trips to the hardware store got us color swatches, then cans of test paint, until we’d settled on a soft gold for the living room, pale gray for the dining. We stopped at those two rooms, deciding not to wear ourselves out doing the whole house. Glenn seemed to thrive at painting, while I was merely competent. Together, we brought the living room alive and proudly viewed our finished work.
It was while doing the dining room that Glenn sought the second gallon of gray paint from the garage. I waited near the drop-cloth-cov
