As usual, the prompt will appear in bold.
“Okay, so because you have these tall skinny windows letting in all this luscious light, I’m thinking a palette of milky whites, soft grays, and vaporous blues would be perfection in here.”
I blinked at Michael, the interior designer that Polly, my business partner, insisted that we had to hire to decorate our new office. “What the hell are vaporous blues?”
His wife and business partner, Mim, handed me a glossy multifold pamphlet printed with paint color swatches and dragged the end of her fancy fountain pen down one of the columns. “These are vaporous blues.”
I squinted at the line of color marching down the page–there were at least eleven different color names, but it was almost impossible to differentiate between them.
Polly stabbed her finger in the middle of the page. “I like that one.”
“Misted Mountain Dew Drop?” I asked.
Michael nodded. “That’s a lovely example of a vaporous blue.”
I squinted at the color again. “It looks more like a grayish-green to me.”
“Right.” He nodded enthusiastically. “Vaporous blue.” He glanced up at me expectantly. “So you’d like to go with Misted Mountain Dew Drop?”
“Wonderful. Why don’t we pick out a complementary white?”
Yes. Why don’t we? Or I could just find a rusty railroad stake to drive through my temple instead. There’s a pop of color for you. Though I was pretty sure blood-red and brain matter gray weren’t Hygge-approved colors.
Polly studied the page of white paint swatches Mim headed her. For fuck’s sake. There had to be forty-seven different shades of white on that.
Michael leaned forward in his chair and peered at the sheet along with Polly. “I really like Snowbound, First Star of Winter, Windfresh White, Linen Sheets, and White Pepper. What do you think, Leia?”
I stared at him blankly for a moment, and then Polly elbowed me. Hard. “They’re all fine,” I murmured. I just wanted this to be over. “Whatever you want, Pol.”
“What I want is for you to take an interest in this.”
“Fine. White Pepper. And surely there’s a Moldy Mushroom Gray to go along with it, right Michael?”
He tilted his head to the side then looked at Mim. “I’m thinking Drizzle.”
“Or Grave Dust,” she countered.
“I like the sound of that.” I looked at Polly. “White Pepper and Grave Dust it is. There. I took an interest.”
Her cheeks flushed red with her anger. I thought about pointing out that she wasn’t embodying the Hygge way, but I thought better of it.
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
I stifled a sigh. I trust you to pick something nice.”
“How can’t you say that?”
“Um…because I trust you, and I literally don’t give a fuck as long as I don’t have to paint it.”
She snarled in frustration, crumpling the paint brochure, but Michael leaned over and plucked it from her hands. “You give so many fucks they’re visible from space!”
“I do. But not about paint!”
That’s it for me, today. Be sure to check out what the other bloggers’ did with the prompt by clicking on their names.