Behind the Paint

Today, Boo received the key to his very own house. Granted, it's his second house (he owns one in Orlando that he rents), but a house nonetheless. It's definitely a fixed upper and needs a lot of tender loving care, but it's his house, with his very own driveway where Grass Nazis will not tow cars away. Oh, and it has a pool. Can anyone say skinny dipping? Hurray!

Boo called me while doing another walk-through. He's completely overwhelmed at all the crap that needs to be done. One of the first things on the list is painting all the rooms. Boo is a man who hates shopping, has little fashion sense, and is mildly colorblind, so the task of shopping for and finding paint colors is daunting to him. I offered my expertise and provided a few suggestions. I even told him I would help paint because I find it kind of entertaining. At first, he didn't seem too keen on having a girl help him decorate his "manly space" in fear that it would turn out too feminine. I reminded him that currently, everything in the house is either white or pink, so anything would be a change for the better. That seemed to sway his opinion a little in my favor.

I'm really hoping he does let me help him with the paint at the very least. But all the hoping really has nothing to do with the paint and everything to do with letting me into his life. Just like when he asks me what shirt to wear, by letting me help him choose paint colors, he's allowing my input and valuing my opinion, which means a lot to me. I'm probably reading way too much into it since we're talking about painting walls, not commitment. But dammit, my crazy female psyche will be appeased once I'm slapping on coat after coat of the paint I picked out.

That makes me neurotic, doesn't it?