A few weeks ago my husband announced that our front door needed to be refinished and I was in total agreement because I had, for some time, been wanting to change the entrance. I explained that I wanted to go with a darker stain and create a door that looks aged and weathered ... antique, if you will.
Together we went to Lowe's and purchased supplies: sandpaper, masking tape, and a deep chocolate brown Minwax stain called Jacobean. We returned home and, while I was discovering new lyrics to a Paul Simon song, my husband got to work.
After a while I took a peek.
"Uhm, that color is still a little too light," I said. "Were you planning on painting a second coat?"
I'm not sure if he was actually planning to, but he did. And just to be sure, he painted a third coat before calling me out to take a look.
YIKES! It was dark, all right ... almost black. AND it was so shiny I could see my reflection.
I must have look horrified because my husband immediately got defensive.
"YOU picked the color," he said.
"WE picked the color," I corrected.
"Give it some time," he said. "The color will fade."
"When, in twenty-five years?" I asked, trying to tone down my sarcasm.
I stared at the door. The mental picture of a warm, inviting front door did not, in any way, resemble the reality of the black, shiny, monstrosity of a door that now graced our front porch.
And I knew that we were headed where many couples have gone before ... the Will-This-Marriage-Survive-the-Makeover/Paint Job/Renovation Epidemic that is due, in a very big way, to every Home Depot and Lowe's springing up across the country.
"You'll get used to it, you'll see," said my husband, whose decorating philosophy is to just wait it out because, over time, anyone can get used to anything.
Well, there was no way I would get used to that door. The following weekend I attacked that door with sandpaper, determined (at the very least) to get rid of some of that shininess.
I sanded a little bit here, and a little bit there, and some more over here. The older stain started showing through in places and, before I even realized it was happening, the door of my dreams began to emerge ... a door that looks as if it has been salvaged from an older home.
I love, love, love my front door. And just to be clear, I love my husband, too.
But we're not going to be repainting the kitchen any time soon.