The Pink House

First order of the day is to tell you why I call my blog the Pink House Diary! To be honest, it’s my pesky sister who’s been harassing me about this next blog. I don’t know if she’s bored and wants to read stuff, but I’m guessing she’s just admiring a genius at work:) 

Anyway, I guess I do owe you guys a reason why this is the Pink House Diary. Well, three years ago we bought this run down dilapidated house in the suburbs. Personally I thought it was a big mistake at the time. My husband had only shown me a picture of the outside and he swore it was a great piece of property. As I was on the verge of delivering my 2^nd child I didn't have time to go house hunting I believed him. Big mistake! I think on some level hubby knew I was OCD about certain things and he didn't want me condemning the place without giving it a chance. I should not have trusted hubby in the end. It’s as simple as that.

When I saw the place once the ink had dried, I was appalled. The previous owner was an engineer of some sort. And I use the term engineer very lightly because no human on earth could have built a house that misaligned, crooked, uneven, jagged, irregular, and lopsided even if they tried. This guy really went above and beyond the call of duty to make sure every brick and stone was in total disharmony with the laws of nature. I don’t know how hubby, who is a doctor, missed to diagnose all these problems in the several visits he made to the place prior to settling on it.

To make a long story short, it took all sorts of miracles to get the place fixed. By the time 7 months and a long overdue vacation had passed the house was finally habitable. I guess you’re wondering when I’m going to tell you about the Pink House part, right? It’s very easy. Hubby and I clashed (understatement) several times over the colors of the house. I finally got the upper hand in the interior colors. My dear beloved husband took one look at the paint chip cards and decided he wanted something bright and “peachy” for the outside. Now, I won’t say he’s color blind, but I can assure you that he’s never seen a peachy color before because what he settled on and sloshed against the exterior is called Chintz Rose. Need I say more? I tried to convince him there was no peach in Georgia that came in the shade of rose, hybrid, organic, or a mutant. Well maybe a mutant! Anyway, we bought gallons upon gallons of Chintz Rose. Once it was on the wall, there was no going back. He wanted peach, we got Barbie Pink. Our house has no number but no one gets lost coming to our place. It’s the last house on the left, PINK with gray gate.

So next time you’re in the hood, look out for the Pink House. We are un-missable.