Earlier in the week, when I was moping around the house, mourning the loss of our family trip and feeling sorry for myself because my vacation time was slipping away with no andventures on the horizon and not enough “quality time”, I realized something. I normally judge the “success” of a vacation by one of two things: 1.) where we went on a trip, and 2.) if a trip is not possible, then how many projects I accomplished. So, in an effort to drag myself out of my mope-iness, I embarked on some projects.

First I started with a small sewing project, and then I tackled a long overdue project – painting the ensuite washroom. Because I didn’t have a specific colour in mind and because we’re economically challenged right now, I rooted around in the mis-tints shelves at Habitate Re-Store and Home Depot. I emerged with a gallon of creamy, buttery yellow that I thought was just perfect for a sunshiny bathroom.

Unfortunately, once I got the paint on the walls, it looked less like sunshine and more like a sad, sad attempt to match the walls to the harvest gold toilet that’s leftover from the seventies when this house was built. I kept trying to convince myself that it wasn’t as bad as I THOUGHT it was and that it would grow on me, but then Marcel walked in and I quickly recognized the all-too-familiar look of “what the heck has my wife done to the walls THIS time?” Yes, I’ve seen it before because I’ve done more than one painting surprise that had to grow on him (most of the time, he comes around). He tried to be gracious, because he knew I was discouraged, but his look said it all.

I think I’ll just give up on trying to redeem this disappointing vacation and go back to moping. You can feel free to ignore me until we return to our regularly scheduled programming.

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