Somebody tell the passionate housewives desperate for God: I finally painted a room in my house. I can't claim it was for a love of beauty; on the other hand, maybe a disgusted surrender to indisputable unsightliness counts for something.
I had some blue paint, so I used it. I think I did an OK job for somebody who was too scared to look at How To Paint Dot Com before trying to paint something. Ignorance is the gift that keeps on giving.
At long last, the point: now I walk into that room and think, "Why is this room blue?" which (substituting in the relevant color) is what I always think any time I walk into a room that isn't white.
I just don't get it.