What a full week I've had. Lots of music, rehearsing, and work work work. Life is good and tres busy.
I'm two months into the reconstruction of Bloggingham after the water damage and there are STILL no walls and floors. Drywall is back up (that's another story) and progress is being made. Strange machines hum all around and there is white chalky powder on the stairs. I am knee deep in carpet and paint samples (!) which should be a fun task but it's like trying to choose just one lipstick color. Impossible! Most importantly, I am driving the construction workers crazy. I'd like to keep it that way.
Baby Boy and I went out Friday to get a Coke and came home with a chair.
Do you like it?
It's a 1970s J.C. Penney wing back chair that has been painted with acrylics right down to the legs! It's in great shape. It has a huge heart and it smiled at me. It might have even winked. I know I heard it say, "I've been waiting for you, Mimi Lenox, to buy me." There is absolutely nothing in my house to go with it. But I could not argue with a talking chair. Ergo, I bought it.
It is groovy. Unusual. Rebellious. Non-beautiful. An eyesore even.
I will have to hide it when my mother comes over.
Does it really matter that Baby Boy said it looks like someone spray painted it with a water hose?
He didn't seem to mind when he sat in it.
For the rest of my pencil life I'd never find a chair like this. Who cares if it screams tacky? Who cares if it clashes with all the other furniture, the walls, the floors and my earrings? Who cares if I may have to build a separate room just to put it in....
Who cares?! It's a musical masterpiece.
Did I ask you, Homer?
Who let that dog in here?
I'm a magic chair.