Biscuit on the bathroom door

I could feel the pain creeping across my shoulders into my neck.
When I
got out of my armchair I was bent over like an old woman. Walking out
of
the lounge I could only see carpet and skirting board as my face
was
looking downwards. I decided to take myself off to bed and plodded
up
the stairs. I found the Tiger Balm and rubbed some in across the
shoulders.
Sitting in bed propped up on pillows I could feel some warmth from
the
balm but only on the fringes of the problem. The muscles were
tightening
and trying to watch the T.V. was becoming uncomfortable. I gave
up,
switched off the box and settled into a nest of duvet and pillows,
ensuring
no space was left for cold air to encroach. As I lay waiting for sleep
an
image of my skirting boards came into my mind. I tried to visualize the
rest
of the rooms and quietly realized that my decor was in need of
some
work.

The next morning my neck was ten times worse. Struggling to sit up I
saw
the Tiger Balm on the dressing table and unwisely got out of bed.
I
staggered and held on to the wall as my head was completely bent
forward
upsetting my balance. The balm was applied very liberally to the areas
I
could reach, after which I washed and dressed as best I could and
went
downstairs for a breakfast of aspirin and caffeine. I laid down on
the
lounge floor trying to relax, but the muscles refused to
co-operate.
Remembering my thoughts from the previous night I looked around
the
room, then through the door into the hallway. It wasn't that bad, but
the
magnolia paint on the walls was almost see through where dirty marks
had
been washed off. There was no continuity from one room to another.
Each
room had its own design and something was needed to bring the parts
into
a whole.
Not being in the right mind frame to think up a new design plan the
Yellow
Pages seemed like a good idea. Someone I'd worked with a couple
of
years ago had left to set up his own business and it would be
interesting to
see if he was listed in there. Reaching for the book was difficult and
I had
to lie on my side to browse the pages. I found his number in a
boxed
advert, dialled and found myself talking to Gary in moments. We
caught
up on a few pieces of social gossip then he said, 'Well times money
dear,
what can I do for you?'
I mentioned the need to think up a plan for the hallway and the fact
that I
was indisposed to do it myself at the moment. He wasn't exactly
sympathetic but enthused about coming round 'this 'arvo for a
look.'
From that remark I took it he wasn't very busy and agreed to the
visit.

When he arrived he looked thinner than I remembered and gave me
the
usual peck on each cheek. I winced, not from distaste, but because it
was
painful holding my head up. We went into the kitchen where Gary
thankfully offered to make the coffee and some toast. Over the toast
we
chatted about old friends and over the coffee we discussed the
possible
new hallway. My head was propped up on my hands so that I could
look
Gary in the eyes, he realized that this was difficult so went on a tour
of the
house. When he came back he was bubbling with enthusiasm and
rushed
into details.
'I see buff colours here, starting with an oatmeal carpet.'
I stopped him. 'No you don't, the carpet stays, it's blue and it's the
only
colour that goes throughout the house, your plan will have to fit round
it,'
He conceded, 'Okay, the carpet will go with the other colours, but
there's
this lovely meringue emulsion that would look terrific on your ceilings
-
white is definitely out now - we can put some colour on all the
woodwork
to liven it up and bring it all together.'
A smile sneaked out from under my pain. I was secretly pleased he
had
mentioned 'all the woodwork' as I hated that particular part of
decorating.
I tried to look worried again, 'How much is all this going to cost
me?'
'Oh, I'll work a plan out with the paint colours and come and see
you
again in a couple of days.'
We made a firm date and I returned to lying on the carpet. Retail
spending
therapy was always good for brightening up a dull day.

When Gary returned he was carrying a large portfolio case with my
plans
inside. We spread them on the kitchen table and Gary explained
his
design. What he actually had were plans for each room and an
oatmeal
carpet. I took his piece of carpet off and replaced it with my piece of
blue
carpet I had ready in the kitchen drawer. The negotiations
started.
Backwards and forwards we went. Gary saying, 'throughout the house',
me
saying, 'hallway.' Eventually Gary had pealed off different wall
colours
from the plans revealing my own colours underneath, with new colours
on
the skirting boards and ceilings - throughout. I concede on the kitchen
only. It looked better with the hallway blending-in everything. I asked
to see what he had been writing
down whilst we had been talking.
'It's only the list of paint colours - the shopping list - to help me
price it
up.'
I looked at the list and burst out laughing.
'This may be a decorators delight Gary. A veritable feast of colour,
but
you can't use it in my house, I'll be continually hungry with
these.'
I looked at a thin, bemused Gary and explained.
'You have meringue on the ceilings, buttermilk on the kitchen walls,
honey
in the hallway, marshmallow on the skirting boards. You might as
well
have coffee around the toilet to go with the biscuit on the bathroom
door.'