Our kitchen has a remarkably small amount of counter space, similar to a mid-size airstream. Now that our kid cooks, we literally have too many cooks in the kitchen. My husband freed up some space by moving the dish drain into one side of the sink. Finding the newly recovered area dim, he ordered a $25 lamp that mounts on the cabinet above. After installing yesterday, he turned it on while I was doing the dishes. Wow! The tiled wall was illuminated as never before, and boy was it filthy. Turn that light off! This was not the response he wanted.
Today, I came into the kitchen from the morning dog walk, noticed the new lamp was on and said, a bit dramatically,
Check out the new light!
My husband replied, Did you just make light of my light?
On a roll, he re-stated with a witty precursor, Light of my life, did you just make light of my light?
I like it! I was being enthusiastic.
Well, I detected a bit of gentle condescension in your tone.
Was it an acceptable amount of gentle condescension or did I cross the line?
Sometimes things are going to take a turn for the worse and there is nothing that can change it. It’s just a matter of which kind of worse. The only options revolve around which aesthetic annoyance will be less intolerable. I picked the worst option but only because I didn’t know until it was too late that it was the worst.
We have a room in the middle of our apartment that serves as the dining room, my office and the art studio. That’s a lot for one room. What a good job it does. Most of the apartment is off white but one wall in the office is painted an olive-y brown. Artwork really pops of this darker color. This wall includes the closet door I use as my studio wall, I hang my abstracts there while I am working on them. Sometimes they go up for five minutes so I can contemplate what to do next, but often they are taped up for several weeks, either waiting to be finished or after they are complete so I can ponder them.
I removed one recently and some of the paint stuck to the back of the tape holding it up. I tried to peel it off in the hope I could glue it back in place, but it crumbled into multiple bits. Insert swear words. I like to swear but I am really trying not to anymore. That’ another post. I was struck with the fact that I could either prioritize making art or prioritize living in a nice-looking home. Of course, I should have saved some of the paint for touch ups. But damn, how many things is one supposed to get right?! Whoops! A little swear blurped out.
It gets worse. I figured if I didn’t have any paint, I would just use one of my colored markers to touch it up. You can see the hideous results for yourself. What an ugly mess. I don’t know what we are going to do. I am so annoyed and yet I don’t know how it could be different. I want to prioritize art. Period! But I also don’t want to live in dilapidation. Oh well. Can’t have it all. But I can put a little eye and mouth on the hideous smear and at least amuse myself. Laughing to keep from crying.
This post is all about the image. What do you think might have contributed to forming this particular arrangement? Consulting with husband, it was not intentional, three items on their way from one location to another, temporarily congregating together like boarders on different flights might mingle briefly at a magazine stand.
We were doing a bit of winter decluttering. This location had formerly been taken up with a wooden shelf warehousing dried legumes, still uneaten since early pandemic hoarding. Next to it was another filled with empty boxes, across from one holding all our CDS. Is it relevant to point out we don’t have a CD player? There is also a room divider hiding things I don’t even want to know about. The entire hallway had been reduced from a two-person thoroughfare to a one way only path. What is the point of that? Would you take the narrowest part of your home, the one most traveled, and constrict the flow? We’re constantly colliding into and inching around each other. A great way to increase irritation in case you’re needing more of that.
So, fixing this stupidity was the first thing that happened. Suddenly there was space again. The food shelf moved to the kitchen and kicked this cool 60’s relic out into the hallway, probably on its way to the garage. The darkroom timer was playing the role of ready-made sculpture on top of another cramped shelf in the dining room/office and it and everything else got cleared off in a minimalism frenzy. It’s also on its way to the garage.
The peanut butter is the real problem. Can it go to the garage? I can’t throw it away; I don’t want to eat it. It’s basically here in case of the apocalypse. It got placed on the lower tier while we decide where it’s going to live. Please don’t let it get behind the hallway room divider and start having promiscuous, unprotected sex with the harem of unused frames hiding there. Thank goodness inanimate objects can’t breed or we would be overrun with sticky rectangles.