Lost in a world where colour choice matters
Perhaps if I’d paid more attention in grade school, to things like numbers and colours. No, that wouldn’t have done it either. I’d living through the anguish of choosing material shades, in windows and doors and shingles and floors. Coupled with the math skills needed to finance expensive ideas, the fun part is gone from the word “funny”.
No matter how much attention I put into the discussion, those colour swatches for the front door and the window casement are meaningless. Dark, and light. Maybe brownish. Maybe greenish. Forget the nuance that is offered in lyrical product names. A forest green and a grassy green aren’t different enough for me to aid in the choice. Complicate my life by showing me how bright sunlight (the blinding variety) will cause two paint samples to contrast more than they did only minutes before in the relative calm of a fluorescent office setting.
Do I want opening to go to the left or the right? Depends on the door and the dog, now doesn’t it. What about fake wood versus fake wood with a different name. Oh, one has a colour guarantee of fifteen years instead of ten? Under bright sunlight, or incandescent… aye, there’s the rub.
What I really want no longer matters a whole bunch. Suddenly, the Plan may mean that I learn to enjoy my surroundings. And if the preceding quarter century is any indication, I might not have enough time left in “my plan”.
Spent some time at the passport office today, waiting. In the waiting room. With about a hundred others. The room is well-named.
