There is wainscoting on the long wall of the bedroom now, which is so very nice. It is primed but not yet painted; when I paint it it will be a milky, glossy white, like all of the trim in our house. I'm picking a new paint color for the wall above the wainscoat and the rest of the walls. I am the worst worst worst at resisting the influence of paint names. When I see a color I like on a paint chip, before I see the name I silently hope that it will be something cool and not something lame. Because I know I am not highly evolved enough not to just ever-so-slightly consider the name in jury deliberations. The color I'm leaning toward in the line-up above is the second blob. Sadly named, by Benjamin Moore, "Quiet Moments." Which sounds like the name of an air freshener. Or a depilatory. Or one of those instrumental-music CDs they sell on the endcap by the wrapping paper at Target. I wanted it to be named "Mount Saint Anne" (obviously), the name of the color that was just a couple of shades darker on the paint chip, which evokes a French convent school. With chipped white latte bowls. And paned windows. And scratchy socks. And oil lamps. On a rocky island. In November. During a storm. In other words, perfect.