I do not like winter, a fact that I may have previously mentioned one or...oh...a thousand times. I do not like the cold weather or being cooped up in my house for months or the snow-covered streets. I miss baseball season, my front porch, peaches, lightning bugs, going barefoot, and steaks on the outdoor grill. (Okay, I have to stop the list right there, before I start to cry.) I do not like the way all those things affect my attitude for the worse. But what I dislike most of all, I think, is the lack of color in my world during the winter. Bleah. Gray skies, white snow, gray highway, black trees. Bleah. I know, I know...gray and white and black are colors...but not happy colors. There's all this gloominess outside and, for now, there's gloominess inside too. The painted-over wallpaper in the front parlor would make me feel gloomy no matter what color it was painted, but the sickly pale blue is depressing. And when I scrape it off, there are off-white plaster walls underneath. Though I admire the skill of the person who plastered those walls, and there is a certain beauty to them, they're still pretty much colorless. I'm looking forward to seeing that nice new floral wallpaper in the front parlor soon. It motivates me to keep scraping away at what's on there now, and I think I've finally reached the halfway point in that room with the paper removal. I might possibly, just maybe, get the new wallpaper up ahead of schedule. But until then...Bleah.