Gray and gloomy

The mood is subdued at Chez Styling. The weather has been gray and overcast for the past few days. While I appreciate the little taste of what is regular Cleveland weather, I'm a bit tired of looking out at the dreary sky while I write. On top of that, Andrew has had a cold for the past few days. It's nothing life-threatening, but it's bad enough that he cancelled a meeting, and I've never seen that happen before. The specter of becoming ill while in the final stages of writing haunts me, so our house has been divided into semi-permeable quarantine zones: Andrew is quarantined to the living room and I spend almost all my time in the bedroom. The cat has roaming privileges.

One cheery aspect of my day is the bunch of pink tulips I bought to put at my writing desk. For years I've kept fresh flowers on my dining room table. I can recall the exact moment I visited an acquaintance's house and realized fresh flowers were something you were allowed to have all the time, not just on special occasions. Now I may need to add to my shopping list and regularly buy a bunch for my desk as well. After all, I sit here eight hours a day, which means only a few cents per hour of flower enjoyment.

These pink tulips are also a reminder that I've been thinking about pink. I've had a strong dislike for the color since my teens. Recently I read an article on the history of gender associations and color. I was surprised to learn that as recently as the last century, many people saw pink as a boy's color (a watered-down version of the masculine red) and blue as a girl's color (more flattering to their delicate skin tones). While I'm still unsettled by the need to brand almost all children's toys and clothing as either belonging to either boys or girls, I have been reminded that my distaste is tied to (what feels like to me) excessive gender division. The color itself is can be separated from the meanings we have attached it. So maybe I'll try on some rose-colored glasses.