My Quest

It should be noted, that I'm not an artistic person. In fact, I lack common sense in regards to color, combination, texture, and depth- all of which (I am convinced) are necessary to achieve a pulled-together, elegantly furnished, tasteful room. I have friends who excel in these areas, but I, sadly, am lacking in such skills.

However, I lack a lot of skills, and I rarely let that keep me from doing anything. If I only attempted the areas I am skilled in, I would be confined to a large easy chair, sipping Diet Coke, and reading 19th century female authors. I am incredibly good at that.

So today I attempted to decorate. I say "attempted" because my first few feeble fumbles have just been taken. I say "feeble", because they were small steps in a certain direction, and I say "fumbles" because those few small steps were probably wrong according to every decorating, interior design law and mantra that has ever been known. Yes. But I tried...

I bought candles.

Don't pooh-pooh my purchase. I know you're sniffing. I just heard you mentally deride the agony I've gone through to select three pillar candles. Yes. Only three. But you must understand the process...

Firstly, they must go on my mantle, so, to look adequate in that space they must be substantial. On a long aisle, with nothing but mounds of scented, dyed wax, one begins to think that anything over three inches is substantial, but this is not so.

Second, color must come into consideration. I now have a red wall. Do you have any idea how many different colors of red there are? I'm sure Markus didn't until he was forced to hold twelve different variations of the same hue up at seven different angles to determine which would be best suited to my new abode. However, this leaves me with a very particular color red. How is one to know if the candle I hold in my hands matches the shade of my wall? God forbid that it be one shade off! Could my future guests stand to be in a house with glaringly mismatched candles? I think not! So I walked down the entire aisle and pulled off every single red candle. I then lined up in a row and compared. The orange-red tints were discarded, the purply reds were tossed aside, until the perfect crimson candle was discovered and placed safely in my cart. After that work, it was guarded jealously.

Third, one must consider texture and shape. There are square, round, pillar, balled, rough, and smooth candles. You may find the perfect height. You may determine the correct shade. But if you have made an erroneous judgment on texture and shape- you might as well have not even commenced the quest for candles. I was forced, during this period of my search, to lie flat on my stomach, in the middle of the aisle, in order to reach the best cream candle on the bottom shelf. (I kept my purse on my shoulder to prevent my credit card and driver's license from being stolen, but then I also kept a foot hooked around my shopping cart to keep an infamous villain from absconding with my previously discovered "perfect" crimson candle. I'm sure I looked amusing...)

Fourth, and lastly, one must look at the whole picture. If one has found the best crimson, the best cream, and the best sienna, then one must make sure that all these bests look best together. Such a thing is not always possible. I'm still mourning the loss of a beautiful chocolate brown candle. But what could I do? Its rough, dark exterior marred the appearance of the cream pillar (and after scrambling all over the floor, I wasn't about to put that one back.)

Some people might council paying attention to scent, in addition to color, texture, shape, and size. While this is optimal, and preferred, it is not always possible unless you have 45 minutes to spend on the candle aisle, and unless (unfazed by the glares of store personnel) you can glibly, without shame pull every candle off the shelves and replace them all in different locations. Apparently I have too much time, and not enough shame... My hands smell like 37 different cream candles.

I think I might be obsessively compulsive...