What with all the work that got done on the Jones compound over the summer, we’re just now getting finished, which means we’re just now getting to the point where we start hanging stuff back up on the walls.
Artwork, dudes, now that’s the part of a marriage that can really put stress and strain on a couple. No, seriously.
For the most part, my tastes run pretty sympatico with those of my wife, known to me as She Who Must Get Her Way, which means we like — mostly — things that are fairly subdued. With one exception. On the cruise from heck where I almost bled out with a gastrointestinal bleed, before I got sick, I managed to purchase this great painting by a dude named Romero Britto. The painting is called Sexy.
That dude knows how to use a paintbrush. And a glitter glue stick, yeah?
Anyway, this was one of the rare times that we actually agreed on what to hang on the wall. Mostly I just go along with what she wants and only object when something really rubs me the wrong way. In that, we’re pretty lucky I guess.
Our problem comes in when we start to hang stuff. She is a bit of a perfectionist. She insists that we hang each picture with two hangers, no matter that each one is rated for more pounds than the picture weighs. And we’ve got to have everything centered or placed down to the 1/8 th inch.
It gets more than a little annoying. Which means I start getting snippy. Then she gets snippy (er) and so on. And so on. Once that vicious cycle starts, it’s hard to break it off and find a compromise.
Okay, I think it’s time to come clean. Mostly I did this post so I could have a chance to show off the picture. It’s pretty cool, yeah?