I would like to use this space to write about the injustice of Behr paints. You will find a picture of our newly-painted bathroom on this blog. Note I don't say "improved." Behr apparently has the money-making scheme down really well. First, you look at millions of paint samples and finally choose a combination published in one of their free little handouts, because the colors are nice and the sample picture is just so pretty. Then you find out that even though you only need a quart of paint to accomplish your task, you must buy a gallon because the "recipe" for mixing the paint can't be broken down. You're willing to shell out the money, though, because you know it's going to be beautiful--just look at the picture! Then you paint one coat, tediously going around all the many, many edges in your bathroom and realize that it's going to need at least three coats. You think, "Thanks a lot Behr, for choosing colors that don't cover well for your sample booklet," but you just keep thinking of that lovely sample picture. You also have a fearful twinge of uncertainty, because somewhere in the back of your head you realize that ten hours of painting has resulted in a product you aren't sure looks very good, but you suppress that twinge, because you actually relied on experts to put these colors together, so it must be ok. Just needs two more coats. Ten additional hours, two more coats, and one cramped hand later, you step back to admire your work. You try to convince yourself that "No, the brown color does not look like a yellow poop color. It looks like English Saddle." "No, the blue really does match the yellow po--I mean English Saddle." You get out the sample and closely compare the English Saddle in the sample with the result on your wall and tearfully admit that "Yes, the English Saddle does look like yellow poop" and wonder what people will think YOU were thinking when they sit down to use your bathroom. You start to have strong feelings about Behr's inability to choose appropriate paints for their sample booklets. "English Saddle my arse," you think. But because you are unwilling to spend all that time and speed the development of carple tunnel in your wrist even further by repainting all the English Saddle tiles, you decide that the tiles really do look good with the other tiles and flooring (and no one is allowed to comment otherwise), and it's really the blue Magic Spell that magically does not match. You think remorsefully of the half-gallon of remaining Magic Spell in your living room and think "Maybe if I buy some new towels, a new shelf, some pictures, a new shower curtain and window covering it will all look ok." (Subconsciouly meaning: "It will look fine if I cover it with stuff that actually matches.") After an hour in Target, Linen and Things, and Bed, Bath and Beyond, your stomach is starting to turn and you begin to wonder just where you can contact the maker of sample booklets at Behr paint. You would like to inform them that no towels in existence match English Saddle (probably because it looks like yellow poop), and no object to be purchased can achieve the great feat of tying together English Saddle and Magic Spell. You notice many, many objects with an English Saddle-ish color paired with warm reds and oranges, definitively decide that the cool blue of Magic Spell is what is ruining your bathroom, convince your husband he agrees, and then go to sleep with visions of replacing the blue in your bathroom with a rust/red/cinnamon color. Somewhere in your subconcious you realize that changing the color means buying more paint, which means utterly wasting the rest of the hideous Magic Spell, which means Behr will have squeezed extra money out of you twice, but despite all this, the next morning you eagerly go to the Behr website, seach out potential warm colors, spend a few minutes to wonder if it's possible to sell half full gallons of paint at garage sales, and then head to Home Depot to drop another chunk of change in Behr's pocket. But this time I'm not using the sample booklets. I've learned that lesson.