Showing posts with label painting. Show all posts
Showing posts with label painting. Show all posts

Thursday, July 15, 2010

I'll Take the 7 Years

I like to think that my husband has good taste...really, I do.  I mean, after all he did marry me.  I know he undoubtedly lost style points when he thought that tapered jeans were still all the rage after 1995, but I've since straightened him out...and he'll now deny ever even wearing the things. 

However, he has horrible taste in home decorating (really, just in the realm of mirrors.)   I decided to paint pretty much most of the upstairs.  At first, the reason was all the dented up walls (courtesy of the two little anklebiters that reside here), but then I saw an even better reason for deciding to redecorate.

THIS:


(I know that it isn't the best photo, but it was either that or a picture of me in the mirror...and I forgot to do it while it was still up on the wall, so this is what you get....crappy mirror next to my robin's egg blue wall...yet one more reason why I shouldn't be allowed to pick paint colors.)


We received it as a wedding gift (from people that we actually like) and I wanted to huck it.  I lost that argument and before I knew it, it was up on the wall.  But not just any wall, not some dark corner or basement bathroom.  Noooooooooooo....He put the f*&^ing thing up so that as soon as you opened the front door you'd gaze into its disturbing beveled edges.  

For years, I had friends walk in and look at the mirror and then back to me and say things like "uh, nice mirror....1987 called..." or "Wow...thats a real awesome mirror you have there...was it your mom's...or was it his mom's"

Nope, unfortunately its ours...

But not anymore....I contemplated giving it to Viola En Vogue, because she does like to look at herself in mirrors (actually she does it rather frequently...can you count that as a hobby?), but she's too trendy, she would die if she had to have that in her place. 

I did think about breaking it, but that's seven years bad luck or something, plus maybe some sucker will buy it at my garage sale. On second thought, seven years isn't so bad if it means I'll never have to see that thing again.


What is the one freaking ugly thing (lets hope there aren't too many!) that your spouse/significant other/roommate insists on displaying?