My bedroom walls are purple.

I never really meant them to be.  I thought I had picked an elegant medium shade of grey, one with only the slightest hint of a purple undertone if you squinted your eyes in just the right light. I remember opening the can and seeing the Barney-liciousness of the paint and wondering if I had been the victim some devious bait and switch paint scheme carried out by perverse employees in the paint section at the local big box store. 

Nope. I just have terrible taste and a penchant for ugly paint chips. But it was a year or so after my kid had died and honestly, purple walls weren't the worst thing to happen and I was broke, paint is expensive, so to heck with it, I thought as I rolled the grapey-goodness on my walls. I think I was waiting for a miracle to happen as the paint dried, but hours later it still looked like Willy Wonka threw up grape bubble gum on my walls and the only real miracle to materialize was the one where my husband didn't insist on an immediate repaint or a divorce. 

Those walls have been purple for over 10 years now. 

My husband is an extremely patient man. He may be slightly colour blind. Both of which I'm extremely grateful for.