Happily, Becki

When I met Timmy, he lived with five guy roommates, and his house existed in a state of boyish disarray. Unidentifiable guy things were strewn across counters. Movies and music and textbooks stacked in piles amongst food and crumbs and empty carryout boxes. Dishes were questionable and bathrooms were interesting. The living room was consumed by one large blue leather sofa,
and the walls had never been painted.

I remember the first night I visited his house. I commented on the boring white walls, and Timmy listened. You see, he listened to me from the start - before he even realized he liked me. Five months later, God spoke and he knew that I was "the one". And so, he planned a "painting party" to paint his living room, kitchen and bedroom, because he remembered my distaste for his white walls.
And because, at that point he was 99% positive I would someday be living in his house,
he purposely encouraged me to pick out the paint colors.

At that point I was totally oblivious. And so, I picked out paint colors that I thought a boy would like. Blue for the living room and green for the kitchen. Red for his bedroom.

Five days after I picked out the paint, we began courting.
One year later, we were married, and I moved in.

Any plans to paint his bedroom the previously chosen color had dissipated after I told Timmy that red gives me nightmares. And that poor can of red bedroom paint was never ever used.

Eleven months later, the red paint is still sitting in the basement. And, after subconsciously reading the permanent marker writings scrawled above our bed for the 100,000,000th time, I finally decided that eleven months was too long for a girl to live in such a place. It was time to paint our bedroom. And so we did. Not red, and not pink, but deep brown and a shifty shade
that can't quite decide between blue or green.

We didn't have time for it, and we should have been doing other things. But suddenly
painting our bedroom before our one year anniversary became incredibly important to me.
And Tim couldn't resist my pleadings.
So Saturday found us covered in paint and standing on sticky plastic drop cloths. 

And, you know, it never gets old. Looking at each other and exclaiming
"We're painting OUR bedroom! Can you believe it?
We're married."

 Eleven months in, and I still can't believe it.

Before:

 After:

 

There's lots more to do before our room is finished,
but I'm sure you will agree, this is a definite improvement!