Apart from sleep, I've been spending the majority of my time in an uninspiring place. We've also been slowly working towards ripping up our old floors at home, which even though we're not renters, still requires a lot of planning and getting permission. It's all very distracting and childlike. It seems like no matter how old I get, I still feel about thiiiss big.
Floors though. It's weird how important they are in our life timeline. Whether finding gold shag in old photos or finding a random scrap of linoleum tossed into a ditch, we point at it and say "HOLY COW I haven't seen that floor since I was THREE." I'm sure my decade (probably life?) of work in a greasy kitchen will have the same effect. I will probably never forget the square, brown tiles I walk across almost every single day. Especially the ones that were poorly replaced and thus not only are already cracked but continually annoy me as I try to drag 300 pounds of meat around them. That's all there will be in my visual timeline - wall to wall brown tiles, often covered in oil, sometimes covered in ants, occasionally covered in someone's blood.
You can see more pictures of this painting here.
Speaking of gold shag, I seem to have a bunch of old photos from before I was even born. Loose now. Who knew that adhesive photo albums would one day destroy a family's precious pics? Okay, probably everyone. I'm not an archivist type at all, and I can't tell if these photos weren't always sepia toned from the beginning. Anyway, I'm not sure what to do with them. Or if I should just give them to someone else since they connote sadness. I still have that box of Project Life pages...
Hello! I'm Melissa, and here you'll find some behind-the-scenes footage of an artful life. Won't you join me?