What to call the rooms?

There is a little controversy in the household regarding the names with which we refer to the cottage's individual rooms. Some are easily agreed upon, such as "bathroom," "kitchen," and "living room" (though we often speak of the latter as Cassidy would have when she was a few years younger: "livering room"). The trouble ensues when referring to rooms by a major spotting characteristic -- interior color. Now that several have been denuded of drywall, their original colors have vanished.

The traditionalist in the family (me) clings to these quaint names, as if we had a long, storied relationship with the rooms in question. In reality, the first thing we did when we took possession was to merrily plot the new color scheme, and shortly thereafter, the walls -- and most traces of former colors -- came tumbling down.

One such example is what I will forever refer to as the "blue room," the room immediately between the kitchen and garage. Alex took down the blue paneling -- the blueness of the blue room -- in one of the first tangible actions of the remodeling. Mrs. Yuhas refers to the space as the "sun room," but with its placement on the north side of the house, it doesn't see much direct sun. (Truth be told, there are four east-facing windows, but we're always still asleep when the sunshine might come pouring in.) The previous owners called it the "game room." Clearly, conflict. You'll read Mrs. Yuhas's rebuttal when she starts her own cottage remodel journal.

There is one bedroom not referred to by color (which happens to be beige), but by an unusual Rorschach pattern on the wood veneer on the inside of the door. Long after the door is removed and hauled off to the landfill, we'll lovingly call this master bedroom the "alien room."