#LockdownDiary – One of many – Day 108
The idea of a collection of daily words describing how you felt for 30 days of social distancing and isolation feels really meaningful to me and something that I think I’d really appreciate having in 10 years. Think outside the box of what you might typically write!— NaNoWriMo (@NaNoWriMo) March 31, 2020
‘What about this colour,’ my partner asks.
‘I’m not sure,’ I reply unconvinced by the variation of white she shows me. ‘It just reminds me of those ugly pale colours in some schools and hospitals,’ I hasten to add as I notice my partner exasperated expression.
We have been talking about painting the walls of our home since we moved in back in September, but so far we have not been able to agree on colours.
‘What walls are we even going to paint?’
‘It depends,’ my partner answers. ‘It’s either we paint this one or those three others.’
I scan the living room, my eyes slowly taking in all the walls and corners. ‘Yeah, I see what you mean.’ We have designed the living room in a way that two of the corners accommodate some of our furniture, the sharp angle of the walls broken by the diagonal of a chair and a television.
‘So just the one wall,’ my partner ask.
‘I think so.’
We stare the wall where the dining table is. Next to it, a bookcase filled with books and paraphernalia stand tall, almost reaching the ceiling. Next to it, an old poster of a painting is framed, half hidden by a tall green plant I have taken to name George. The wall disappears quickly after that, hidden under the slants of the stairs.
‘Remember, we’re going to put Paris there,’ I say pointing to the empty white wall above the table.
‘Oh yeah. I’d forgotten. What colours is it again. Blue, isn’t it?’
‘Yes. Blue and brown,’ I add. I google the painting of shepherd Paris by Van Dyck and show it to my partner.
She nods. Our gaze alternate between the wall and the samples of paint on the coffee table. ‘This one,’ I say, my fingers edging towards one of the pale blue.
‘I don’t know.’
I stare at the wall for a while longer, a sea of white. I am both daunted and excited about the idea of painting walls. This is the first house where this has been a choice. I am used to living between white walls. I don’t think about them. They are a fact of life.
‘This one,’ my partner points to a deep blue tinged with green.
We highlight the name. ‘What about the other rooms?’
‘Let’s have a look at the prints we have for the stairs.’
We make our way to the study where I unearth the prints that have been hidden from the sun for months.
I lay them on the sofa bed, imagining them on the wall of the stairs as I go up and down everyday. My phone rings as I point to a colour. It is nearly time for Analogue Television and this week, I would like to see it live rather than on catch-up.
‘Can we leave that room until tomorrow? I’d like to watch my thing.’
‘Sure,’ my partner replies. I turn my laptop on, head over YouTube, and open the relevant live video. The countdown is ticking along, leaving me just enough time to make a cup of tea.