New Year, New Walls!

New Year, New Walls, right?

Remember Sandy? The storm?

Well, my bedroom ceiling leaked then, so after all the elaborate repairs (the roof, the deck above me, the drywall etc.), it was time to paint the whole bedroom.

A contractor asked me: "what's the paint you used before," and I said, without hesitation: "Caribbean Blue!"

I was absolutely sure of it, as sure as I am of the fact that I'm sitting in a cafe now writing this blog, staying away from home while my housekeeping is cleaning the mess painters left and while the walls are still drying, releasing that nauseating smell (toxic too.)

How could I possibly be wrong? I take great pride in my memory! I am one of those people you ask:" what did you wear on March 5, 2008?" and I say:" that yellow sweater I bought in Amsterdam!"

Of course, neither me, nor the contractors thought of checking if the paint matched, before actually...well...painting!

I trusted my memory without reservations, and the contractor either A) didn't care; B)trusted me.

So, yesterday, they began painting my sky blue bedroom into...Caribbean blue, i.e. a dark, turquoise color.
I have been to Caribbean many times, and I ain't seen anything that color. That dark, that green.

By the time the mistake was uncovered, lots of money and time had already been invested.

And there was really no time to go back to the store (I would have had to do it), buy new paint, or exchange the wrong one (is that even possible?) for what really was blue (not green.) And I was at my writers group meeting at the time, then meeting an old friend from Belgrade, on a very tight schedule.

I have a feeling that people around me are often color-blind. Benjamin Moore certainly is.

So now, if you walk into my bedroom you either A) panic because you think you're drowning B) begin waving your hands and kicking your legs. C)holding your breath.

Maybe I should hire an artist and paint some fish...

Everyone, raise your mug of chamomile tea!

Here's to an excellent writing day! (I'm raising my mug of chamomile tea!)
Hmmm, why chamomile at...2pm, you wonder?
Well, with a great writing day come... nerves. Hence the chamomile tea.
Let me elaborate. (It's actually kind of interesting for psychology students.)
So, I'm working on a story that has an abortion in it. And I'm basing it on interviews I conducted with older women in Serbia.
And when I write, I write like an actor. What do I mean by that? Well, I use my acting training to get into my character's skin.
So today, I was in the skin of a young woman getting an illegal abortion in 1940s or so, in rural Serbia.
Uplifting, right?
Hence the chamomile. I got anxious a little while writing. Just a little. The room, i.e. the cafe began spinning a little, and it became a bit warm (it's 74 degrees here) and...just got a little anxious.
But since I'm also kind of happy that my story got a real good shape today, and I'm ready to workshop it, I decided to cope with my "flight" instinct and sit down with a nice mug of chamomile and some honey.
I wonder if other fiction writers get upset by their characters going through hell?