Good morning! I’m in early today sharing a piece that has some underlying meanings. They have to do with some unintentional “art” I created last night.
First off, I would LOVE to still be in bed, dreaming. Nights have been shortly lately, and I feel that a few extra hours of shut-eye would be just what the doctor ordered. Instead,I decided to get up and play in some ink. Considering I could do paint, watercolors, or a range of other things, why ink? Well, that’s where my ‘unintentional art’ come into play!
About once a month, Services for the Blind comes around the neighborhood and picks up items you donate for them to sell in their thrift shop. It’s a good cause and I always try to make sure there are a few boxes out on the front porch for them. Sometimes I’m well organized and have a box ready to go that’s been added to over the previous weeks, and other times, I go hunting in the garage for miscellaneous things we no longer seem to have use for. The latter was this month’s choice.
So, last night I went on a quest. What could there be? And then I spied it – and old printer we’d replaced a few months back that still worked perfectly fine. Great! Pleased with my first find of the night, I picked it up off the floor and headed into the house… through the hallway.. past the piano… past the front door.. into the dining room… and I set it down on the cream damask table cloth that covered the antique, hand-me-down, family heirloom dining room table.
Panic stricken ‘art’.
As I set the printer down, the slimey, blood-like feel covered my hands, and I felt it seeping through the material of my jeans. Horrifingly… it wasn’t blood.. No! Something MUCH worse…. INK! Deep dark trails of it everywhere I’d just walked, running down my clothes, over my shoes, and slowly branching off in a pool across the now sopping wet table!
My wonderful husband spent the next fourty-five minutes or so crawling around on his hands and knees with me cleaning, re-cleaning, and still cleaning more on that completely disasterous mess. I have to give him extra kudos, as he never showed upset. The family table now has three very distinct tattoos the size of oranges that will never come out of the thirsty wood. I didn’t even bother trying to do anything with my favorite tablecloth or the pile of dishtowels that aided our efforts to save the day. Everything – including that stupid printer – is now in the trash.