My first thought for IF's word of the week was to go back to my girl with the bucket on her head of a couple weeks ago, but having 2 girls scrubbing my basement because I need a double. The plumbing disaster has been disastrous, and I have been scrubbing mold and mildew from things before tossing them in the driveway as hopeless.
The claims adjuster has come and gone, and I guess he doesn't value my stuff as much as I do. All these years of collecting has been forcibly brought back to a more manageable level. Gone is the solid oak desk I used in college. Gone are the wooden cubby holes I got from a previous job. Gone is the oak bookshelf my dad scavenged from Case Western when they remodeled their dorms. Gone, gone, gone... but did I really need any of these things? When was the last time I actually worked at that desk?
Objects that remind me of people don't really bring those people back. If you get down to it, my creepy landlord gave me that desk, and remembering him just brings back the image of him peeking in my window. But the desk reminded me of sharing the rundown party house with Pat and Matt and how they shot the wall with a nail gun. They stuck birthday candles in the holes, then nearly burned the house down while they laughed and ate Cap'n Crunch dry out of the box -- but do I need a big, moldy piece of furniture to remind me of my very accurate prediction of what would happen when they lit those candles?
I'm too tired this week to make new art, so this is something I did for the dedication of Lake Farmpark, which is a demonstration farm in Lake County, Ohio. The art was created in pen and ink then printed on linen paper. I'd like to write something sweet about my twin brothers, but I'm pretty sure they know I love them. Besides, they like to be considered singular individuals instead of part of a pair anyway. Give me time. I'll write about them eventually!