pink overload?

Is there such a thing as “too much pink?”

I happened to notice this particular tableau beside me tonight:

My nightgown is pink, and so are my handbag, wallet, water bottles, tissue packet, markers, cookie tin, and brocade box where I keep my mobile phone chargers.

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Above my computer is a pink saddlecloth from last year’s MARHO Breeders’ Cup event (the horse that was to have used it was scratched from one of the races) which I use to cover the printer. My stapler is pink, and so are the tape dispenser, pouch for my external hard disk drives, and camera strap.

I had a mani-pedi last night and chose Orchid Pink nail polish for my nails.

Among my favorite movies are Legally Blonde 1 and 2 – mainly, I suspect, because of all the pink clothes and stuff Reese Witherspoon got to use in them.

I’m happy I can surround myself with my favorite color. Why should we deny ourselves the harmless little things that give us pleasure? Call me a responsible hedonist along Epicurean lines, where “the highest pleasure consists of a simple, moderate life spent with friends and in philosophical discussion.”

So┬ámy answer is: “You can never be too rich or too pink.”

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