Orange Revolution

Notes on Painting an apartement in Manhattan, Poland.

The black stains covering the plaster walls just became giant Rorshark tests as the spongs spread hot sudsy water all over them. My suburban Utah idea of the first step of painting a room had already met failure.

The paint was a gift from Grandpa. Well, not exactly. He had had some identical paint, left over from painting our kitchen, which he wanted to give us, but he had already loaned it out to his friend. His friend, however, had already ruined it in an unfortunate incident. But, not wanting to offend Grandpa, we procured identical paint to the kind he wished to give us, with him none the wiser.

The color was supposed to be orange. Agata likes oranges, even though she didn't have any oranges until she was eight, and the wall came down, a fact of constant amazement and guilt for me. Instead, the color was pastel salmon of a sickening hue. Pigment was needed, three doses, and two coats of paint, before orange we had.

Meanwhile we had to whitewash the soiled radiator, paint over the poorly-fit doors and plug up the huge gaps through which the cold winter wind blew like a hot knife through bacon fat. Cords were assembled, and our lumbering stegosaurus of a television was jimmy-rigged to life. Hideous, lurking black furniture was scrubbed and covered with bright cloth from second-hand shops. Slowly a room emerged where once was only darkness and filth.

The housewarming parties still haven't ceased. The guests come endlessely, never coordinating to be more than one at a time. Each brings flowers or wine and stays for coffee or tea for five or six hours. Each comments on the room, how they like it, at first, then the long list of improvements we still need to make. They all hate the table. We like it, just to spite them.

Curtains, a donated giant orange rug, and some plastic tablecloths later, and my first decorating experience is complete. A People's Rebulic mass housing dwelling unit has been converted into a chic twentysomething think pad. Little research has been accomplished.