I painted the bathroom, and against my better judgement, I allowed the lady at the paint store to sway my opinion. I went in knowing exactly what I wanted and she convinced me I wouldn’t like it. She doesn’t know me – never met me and sure hasn’t seen my home, yet I gave weight to her opinion. I got the paint home and painted the whole bathroom. As I painted there was a pit in my stomach, it was darker than I wanted, just like my instinct told me at the paint store, but I painted the whole room just to make sure. After finishing, I kept walking in and out of the room and every time I walked in it felt dark.

I’m not always the best judge when I’m so closely tied to a project so I brought in another set of eyes to take a look; my husband. He liked the color and didn’t feel it was too dark but he left it up to me to decide, he then turned around and went to bed. Not the help I was hoping for. I went with my gut and went straight to the garage to find a can of paint that I knew would brighten things up and repainted the whole thing (starting of course at 11 o’clock at night.)
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This was the note that Steve left for me the next morning:
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Just three days after Steve wrote this, I installed the door for the bathroom and went back to trim it out the next morning and wasn’t totally satisfied, so I removed the door and reinstalled it. I’m really not a perfectionist. In fact, I’m often the queen of “Good Enough” but there are those few moments when I know I can put in very little effort and be much more satisfied. Painting the bathroom was one of those moments.