A Midweek Run for Client Samples

I needed fresh paint samples for the Thompson living room this week, so I headed downtown after lunch. The client wants something warmer than the last round but not too dark once the afternoon light hits. The paint store smelled like sawdust and fresh latex even though the floors were swept clean, and the fluorescent lights made every chip look a little cooler than it would at home. I grabbed a handful of chips from the Behr display and a couple of the Sherwin Williams ones that looked close to the sofa fabric they already have, then stood there a minute longer comparing them against the glare on my phone screen while a clerk restocked the rollers nearby.

On the way back I stopped at the fabric outlet near the old train depot. They had a bolt of that linen blend on sale, the one with a slight texture that holds up better than plain cotton. I bought two yards just in case, even though I was only supposed to be looking. The bolt was heavier than I expected when I lifted it off the shelf, and the edge frayed a little when I unrolled a test strip under the big ceiling fan. The drive home took a little longer than usual because of the construction on the south side of the riverwalk; I sat through two light cycles watching a backhoe scoop gravel while the radio played the same traffic update twice.

Ren called while I was unloading the car and said his brother had sent another box from Riverton. It showed up yesterday with a few jars of that preserved barkfruit they always include. I still have half a tin left from the last shipment and keep forgetting to ask Lissa how she uses it in anything besides toast. We might try it in a salad dressing this weekend if I can find a recipe that sounds reasonable. The jars clinked together when I set the box on the counter, and one label was already peeling at the corner from the humidity in the shipping truck.

I spread the samples out on the dining table once I got inside and took a few photos to send over. One of the greens looked better in person than it did on the screen, which is usually the opposite of how these things go. The Thompsons have been easy to work with so far, mostly because they already knew what they did not want. I shifted the chips around under the window light a couple times, watching how the edges caught the sun that was starting to slant lower, and made a note on my phone about which one felt least likely to wash out by four o’clock.

Later in the afternoon I sorted through the mail that had piled up and found a notice about the new recycling schedule starting next month. It lines up with the changes they announced after the last city council vote. I set it aside to deal with later and made a quick grocery list instead, adding the potting mix I kept forgetting and a bag of lemons because the basil was looking thirsty again.

We had leftover pasta for dinner and watched the first half of a documentary about the 1992 election before Ren had to take a work call. The footage still looks strange with the old cameras they used back then. After he finished we walked around the block once to stretch our legs before it got fully dark. The air felt heavier than it has all week, but at least there was a little breeze coming off the water, and the neighbor’s sprinklers were hissing across their front lawn as we passed.

Tomorrow I need to return a couple of the sample pots that did not match and maybe swing by the plant store for more potting mix. The basil on the windowsill has been struggling since the heat picked up. I keep meaning to move it to the shaded side of the kitchen but have not gotten around to it yet.