The interior of my house has been painted many times. I have seen evidence of recent repainting and for the most part, I'm okay with their colour decisions, but there was one room in my house that was painted red. Red on all four walls. Scratch that. On all six walls. It's a funny shaped room, and I put a kid to sleep in that room. They didn't do well, like Jane Eyre who cried and fainted and feared the dreaded ghost of her dead uncle.
As a disclaimer, I have seen red rooms that are not hideous. I keep telling people that I'm not against red in such a way that I can't acknowledge that it looks nice from time to time. It looks really good in the Pizza Hut I patron sometimes, but that room in my house just bummed everyone out. Being in there made you feel like you were getting your soul sucked out. It's a narrow room with a dark floor.
Painting that room was on the list of things that needed to be done, but it didn't get done until last week. I took the kid in question to the paint store and let them pick whatever colour they wanted that was at least somewhat neutral. I made them stand in front of the colour pallet for five minutes while I rubbed my hands together evilly and thought, “This paint will up my resale value.” Seriously, any colour would. The red was that bad. When I was looking at the pictures of my house when we were still buying it, I didn't get a good look at that room until the home inspector sent me a very detailed package of pictures. You know the kind, where they take a picture of a drain really close up, or a pipe, or a filter, and then a picture of that room. The rest of the house is painted sage green and butter cream yellow, then suddenly in that room there's blood pouring down from the ceiling.
“Funny, the blood usually gets off on the second floor.”
So, the kid picked a light turquoise. I was okay with that. The gal selling me the paint reassured me that Behr Marquee paint would cover my red paint in one coat. It was a good thing I didn't believe her, because if I had I would have been mighty right ripped after I finished the first coat that was in no way adequate. The woman at the store even gave me detailed instructions on how to apply the paint to get the best results. I stared at her and wondered how long I had to listen to her filthy lies. I bit my tongue on telling her that I'd used that paint before and it was good paint, but her description of its super powers was ridiculously overrated.
AND the person who applied that wretched red paint did not tape, so there's little flecks of red paint on the ceiling and on the trim. Foul renovator!
Oh... and one more thing. There is another room in my house painted red. They couldn't just do one.