I haven’t been blogging much these past few days.
I spent the bulk of this past weekend repainting our front room.
If you recall, the previous color that W and I had chosen looked a lot like Drunken Smurf had vomited on the walls. For more on paint color and a valuable lesson on honesty and love, click here.
Truth of the matter is that I am now hyper-focused (hyper-focused sounds so much better than obsessed) on a focal piece for our freshly painted front room.
The room has two oversized windows that extend to the floor. I think that a really cool piece of art hanging between the two windows will really set off the room.
This from a butch lesbian with little design skills. If you haven’t noticed, HGTV isn’t exactly teeming with lesbians.
Ask a butch to suggest a home design accent. Thirty-eight percent will answer either “duct tape” or “flannel.”
Originally, I thought that I could re-mat two pictures that the kids had painted when they were younger and use those.
After much thought, I concluded that the artwork wouldn’t have the desired effect. I need something with more pop.
I scoured art.com all of Sunday looking for a cool pop art piece. Something along the lines of a Keith Haring or a Roy Lichtenstein. Sadly, art.com didn’t have a single usable piece. “We are art,” art.com says. Which really means “we are art for everyone but you.”
I briefly thought about getting a large canvas and creating my own custom painting, but soon abandoned that idea. Because we all know what happened to Vincent Van Gogh and Jackson Pollock. More madness isn’t something that I particularly need.
Yesterday, I came up with the idea of locating a vintage advertising sign to mount. I’ve been on eBay looking for an affordable Coke or Pepsi sign or some other cool piece of signage. The ones that I like seem to cost right around a thousand dollars, which greatly exceeds my self-imposed budget of a hundred bucks or so.
I suggest to W that I become a picker like Mike and Frank on American Pickers. But I’m afraid of people, especially old people. And everyone knows that old people have the best old stuff. W tells me that she will become a picker, too, and she can deal with the people. I don’t know how serious she is about this.
So for now, every spare moment will be spent cruising for the perfect wall hanging.
That sentence would be so much cooler if you replace “wall hanging” with “woman.”
But, I am 45 and abandoned cool a long time ago.
So, it’s back to the quest, the hunt, the chase.
At least until the next obsession comes along.