People Who Live in Beige Houses Have No Dreams
I feel like somebody beat me. The house across the street is beige. Not a little beige. Totally beige. Beige siding, beige brick, beige railing and the garden consists of ... drum roll please ... beige river rock. Wooohooooo!The view from my dining-room window is like a near-death experience, except instead of going into the light, you are going into the beige. It makes me do crazy things. Last week, it caused me to have a total flame-out and decide that the front of my house was getting a makeover. The front door was going to go from poppy red to cobalt blue -- "hyper" blue to be exact. No fear of color here! On the way to work, I took a detour to the Sherwin-Williams and bought the paint. Just like that. I'm going to FORCE color on my neighbors. It is just not fair that I have to look at their crappy beige and they get to look at my shiny front door and my garden.We spent two days in the gardens mulching and dividing the perennials I have been cultivated for four years in the hopes that they would swallow my house, or at least block the view of the beige. The garden project is the source of the physical pain, but it is nothing compared to having the sight of the beige house burned on the back of my retina. By Memorial Day, I should have a cobalt-blue front door, and short of putting a sign in the front yard bearing the Diana Vreeland quote, "People who eat white bread have no dreams," I don't know what else I can do to announce to the world that I hate things that are boring. Which reminds me of something else Diana Vreeland said:It is better to be vulgar than boring.