In the years since her husband died, my mother-in-law's house has been gradually turning pink. The non-absorbent exfoliating bath towels are pink. There is pink tile in the bathroom; the bedspread is pink lace as are the paint-by-number pink roses the size of cabbages over the bed.
Of course, the bursting closets (she never throws anything away) reveal rose, coral, raspberry, peachy pink, dusty pink, and lavender.
Perhaps he had forbidden the color to enter the house, along with shrimp, pizza, and broccoli? I am glad I had sons. I abhor pink in any but very small doses.
Mom A is okay. Just a little weird.
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