Last summer we had our front foyer re-done. When we moved in, it had been painted to look like a half ruined, Etruscan fresco, which tried to take advantage of the actual half ruined state of the plaster walls. Dan was never a great fan of it but I liked it for its strangeness and because I love any attempt people make to bring a sense of the hand into unusual places. After almost ten years with our Etruscan ladies disintegrating in our foyer, the piles of shoes and scooters, baseball bats and what-have-you started to overwhelm the space. There were times when the front door could hardly open, blocked by the piles of stuff. It seemed like bad feng shui if nothing else.
So we had the walls re-plastered and put in a shallow cabinet with shelves for shoes and a bin for hats and mitts.
Clean and functional. No Etruscans but no clutter either. I eagerly volunteered to paint the foyer last September. And then, whoosh, life happened. So it was that a couple of months ago Dan made a bet with me that I would go back to Newfoundland and the foyer still would not be painted. Perhaps he knows me too well. Reverse psychology works like a charm - all he has to do is suggest that I can't do something and, let me tell you, that thing is done. Actually now that I think of it, this may have been his master plan all along. Played like a grand piano! Ah well...
What he didn't expect was that I would have moment of madness in that little foyer.
And, I won the bet!