It either feels like living in Hard Rock Cafe or a vacuum cleaner bag, depending.
But as I combed the house for more hard-to-clean places (and consequently, more filth), I noticed how many music-related items there are. This is probably because my husband is a social worker by day, would-be rocker by night.
Here's a small sampling:
Sun-catcher. Best photographed
when the sun is actually shining.
out of me every time I go in our closet.
That penny was defaced at the Torpedo Factory.
It has been adopted into the tribe as an honorary pick.
I feel Paul's guilt-inducing stare as I watch TV, sprawled on
the couch. His Linda wouldn't have been so lazy... she'd have
gone out and built an organic mud hut or something.
Miniature guitar. You could probably
play it if you were a guinea pig.
great-grandfather. I think the harmonica was his, too.
The actual record of payment for the mandolin
banjo. It cost $15.00 plus $1.50 for the case. He paid four
dollars every month until it was paid off.
God would disapprove of Mary's placement on this shelf.
Hey, look! It's Disturbing Mouse Boy.
I found him in the grass one day while I was
walking the dog. He really freaks Mike out,
so I like to hide him in surprising places.
And this is what you really came here for, isn't it?
Happy Phallic Friday.
(doesn't look very satisfying, if you ask me)