That's not a knife.

Moving. Where there's packing tape. And found lost items. Dust bunnies. Broken gravy boats. SO MUCH FRAMED ART. New items now lost. All those saved plastic bags (why?!). And paint.

We don't need to talk about how many paint stores that were visited. Mkay?

My parents, in their awesomeness, even came over twice to help tape, prime and paint.

The kitchen was painted green. A new green. The old green was a little subtle for my taste. But the new green was a little ... green.

So much so that when I asked my dad what he thought about the color while we were painting, he said, "the hallway looks great." (Um, the hallway is NOT green.) A friend stopped by later and texted after visiting, "if you decide to repaint I'll help you." It was not looking good for the kitchen.

We decided to give it time and I realized that our kitchen was like that Crocodile Dundee line where he says, "That's not a knife ... this is a knife."

Which is perfect. That's not a green. THIS is a green.