My daughter just put on her third pair of pants this morning. Though she is potty training, the other pairs are clean and dry as can be. One pair matched Daddies, but sagged off of her no-longer diaper covered butt. One pair had flowers on it, but hung over her heels. This pair fits to the ankles, is still loose at the waist, and has hearts on it "Like frog panties." she tells me. At least childrens cloths are small and fit into the laundry machines in large batches.
Color has centralized itself this morning as we re-assembled the living room of our house. Gone, finally, is the cafe-au-lait color and cranberry-mauve roman blinds. In place is a goldfinch cream, accented with a blue hued slate and alabaster blinds. Coffee is confined to my mug, and looks pleasant in there. I'm still trying to figure out how to make goldfinch cream. It must involve a blender, a bird (or at least the feathers) and a little bit of inhumane action.
I feel happier in the morning. Maybe its the lighter shades, the greater light reflectivity, the sense of accomplishment, or just the concept that I'm no longer drinking my wall color. Change is good for me, good for us. Little bits of change working toward some greater goal helps us feel empowered.
Now that the colors of our lives reflect our personal space, we can better concentrate on living. For me that means doing a couple loads of very small laundry. For Our Daughter, exploring the extra mobility provided by panties. For Pete it means getting a chance to use the computer which I've been hogging this morning. Its his fault. He left it in our beautiful new living room.