My husband and I have probably always been decorating-challenged, but didn’t know it. When we built our house 8 years ago we couldn’t afford wallpaper, so we painted all of the rooms different colors. The day the painter finished and prepared to leave he said, “Nice house. It’s sort of like an Easter Egg.” We took it as a compliment.
In the past few years my sisters have become convinced that we need help and they introduced us to their decorator friend. Dana has been decorating for them for years and they sing her praises. During our first meeting with Dana we also became convinced that she could offer us decoration salvation. In recent months she has done marvelous things and we have developed a firm relationship along the God and Moses model.
Now, whenever there is a decision to be made about the house, I run to a phone and dial Dana’s number. She answers in her calm voice and I spill out to her all the questions to be answered and decisions to be made. Always she replies with firm answers from her vast knowledge and experience. I take notes as if the answers are written in stone. I hang up the phone and rush to share the good news with the waiting painters, paperers or construction workers.
Frank and I are sane and independent in all other aspects of our life except in our decorating. We have become totally dependent on Dana to make decisions. Now when we go shopping and come across a household item we debate. Would Dana approve? We like it, but will she find it unacceptable? Fortunately we can rush toward the nearest pay phone or car phone and make the right decision.
Displeasing Dana would never do. Sometimes I bolt upright in bed after a Dana nightmare. In my dream I’ll pick up the phone and talk to Dana as usual, but in the course of the conversation I am filled with the evil knowledge that I am the only one with an ear to the handset when the Dana advice is given. She has given me clear instructions in my dream about the proper sink faucet for our bathroom renovation, but when Frank and I stand before the faucet selection at the store I pass over the Dana-endorsed choice. Instead my fancy settles on a contemporary style faucet that is all sleek lines and chrome. In my dream voice I say to Frank, “Oh, this is what Dana recommended. This faucet with the pig-ear style handles. I’m sure this is the right one.”
Frank buys it and as we close the car doors the car phone rings. Slowly I pick up the handset and it is Dana. “So, did you find the right faucet?” She asks in her smooth southern voice.
“We really like it,” I reply in a thin shaky voice.
“Did you pick the one I suggested?” She asks with a voice full of knowledge.
“Oh, no, not exactly,” I confess tearfully. “Not at all. I’m so guilty. I fell in love with these chrome pigears. They looked so cute and I just couldn’t help myself. I won’t ever do it again. Never, never, I promise . . . ” And finally I wake up.
You won’t find me misbehaving.