Ask anyone who knows me; I am not the kind of person who is all about acquisition. In other words, as long as I have love, comfort, foodand a roof over my head I’m good to go. I don’t “need” this, or “need” that.
I’m a writer, not an artist and as such I am not always creative in that way.
As long as the walls are clean and standing I find it hard to justify regular paint jobs to simply spruce things up. This brings its own set ofproblems, which, quite honestly, I don’t view as being a problem in the scope of all things.
For instance, my husband, Mr. Eagle Eyes, doesn’t miss a thing. I can walk into someone’s home and spend hours there and will have anepic fail should you later ask me what colour the walls were, or for that matter, if the place even had walls.
When that translates into how that impacts my home, Mr. E. E. can (and will) tell you that I won’t notice cobwebs growing in the cornerunless I happen to walk right into them. True story right there.
So while some might call that a bit lackadaisical when it comes to brooms and cobwebs, I simply shrug that off knowing there are biggerfish to fry than cobwebs hanging in the corner or dust bunnies running from that broom.
Consequently, that means that our home hasn’t been redecorated in years, if ever, now that I think of it. Sure, I will buy a new bedspreador replace towels that even a dog wouldn’t use after a bath, but renovating is beyond my imagination.
My sister, on the other hand, is a true artist. She is constantly upgrading her surroundings and I have to admit she has exquisite andimpeccable taste. Should I attempt to take on any of the projects she has conquered with one arm tied behind her back, I can guaranteethat one of those home decorating reality shows would be knocking on my door, camera in hand and ready to sell the finished video tothe comedy channel as well.
And so, it is with great trepidation that I find myself (and thus Mr. E. E. as well), in the thick of a major renovation.
It started innocently enough. Even my eyes were horrified to see that the area behind our stove was in dire need of a good scrubbing. Theonly problem is some yahoo prior to us buying this home thought that wall paper as the back splash behind the stove was a good idea.Wrong. Dead wrong.
When I realized that even blasting that area with napalm wouldn’t clean it up I admitted, with a sinking heart, that it needed to be tiled orsomething. Anything.
When I mentioned tiling that area to Mr. E. E. he immediately morphed into Mr. Practical as he informed me that the counter tops neededto be replaced before any painting or tiling should happen. Nodding my head in reluctant agreement I was horrified to hear him then saythat as long as we were doing that, we might as well lay that laminate flooring we have been talking about for eons and while we are at it,we should paint as well.
So, what we have here (after also agreeing that we should have some more cabinetry built and shadow boxes made) is a major renovation.The real problem witah all of this though, is that someone has to choose colours, tile style and flooring colour.
Do you see where this is going?
Mrs. Not An Artistic Bone In Her Body now gets to exercise that part of her brain that has atrophied from lack of use.
It looks to me that everything is in place for the perfect storm.
Well, as of this morning I think we have it figured out. Wall hangings are down and knick knacks are put away in anticipation of painting.The flooring is laying in wait and the tile has been ordered.
Unfortunately, what you end up getting when you ask a writer to make an artistic choice is Day of the Dead tiles handmade in Mexicowaiting to be installed in the kitchen.
Mr. Easygoing is about to be treated to a renovation steered in large by none other than moi, a non-artistic person. That’s a lot like tryingto put a square peg in a round hole.
Stay tuned. This should get interesting.
