disaster zone: goodbye mr. saunders

One of the lovely things about being a house for 2.3 (two humans, three cats) is that one can turn an upstairs bedroom into a craft room. If we had children, some scruffy kid would be in my craft room screwin’ the place up. It is obvious that the previous owners of our home did not possess the common sense that 2.0 and I have, and allowed a child to live in what is now an almost-craft-room. It is obvious because there is a huge tree painted on the wall.

It’s quite a piece of work. It spans an entire wall. Its branches reach across the window that looks over our neighbour’s yard. It dominates the small room.

Next week this mural will be painted over. That tree needs to go.

For as happy as I will be to reclaim this space as an adult’s, it will be sad to paint over the artist’s work. (Not really, but I feel like I should be sad.)

I’m not five, and you ain’t either, so get over it.