Ah, but the sort of people who like to read literature want there to be a hidden meaning in everything. To them, reading is like a child's Easter egg hunt: there is a colorful treasure everywhere, and all you have to do is dance about and collect them. Suggesting that the curtains are fucking blue is hurtful. It's like taking one of those beautifully colored Easter eggs and throwing it against a fence and saying, "SEE, it's just a chicken's egg, it's not really the coming of Christ!" From their point of view it's needlessly going out of your way to do something malicious to their delicate psyche.