Monday, October 1, 2012

Just Like Martha Stewart. Only Different.

If you were to walk into my house today, you’d notice some things right away. You’d see that I am a fan of colour and photography. You’d see that I favour clean lines and a lack of clutter and that I’m obsessively neat.

You’d also see a lot of gargoyles lurking about in corners and on surfaces.

You might be wondering, why would someone have gargoyles? And how many gargoyles counts as “a lot”?

Nine. Nine gargoyles.

Which means that I have about 1.05 gargoyles for every 100 feet of apartment.*

I love them.

I got into the gargoyle collection accidentally, when I was given my first gargoyle as a wedding gift by my friend, the fabulous Hannah. Who, despite not previously having met my ex, thought that it might serve as some extra protection. You know, she said, “just in case.”

She is apparently more clever than I am.

At any rate, when you have one quirky item in your home – such as a concrete gargoyle that weighs about 30 pounds and is completely awesome – other quirky items tend to follow.

In my case? More gargoyles.

I’m mentioning this now because if you think it’s easy to work gargoyles into any kind of organized decorative scheme, you would be …

… well, you’d be wrong.

One gargoyle? One gargoyle blends.

Nine of them tend to become kind of obvious.

They may – on occasion, now and again – cause guests to look at you sideways as they try to determine what sort of den of craziness they have wandered into. “She seemed so NORMAL. And then I realized that everywhere I went there was some sort of gargoyle STARING at me. That is NOT OKAY.”

But they ARE okay. They’re awesome.  Beansie loves them and will often snuggle up to one and go to sleep. (Disclaimer: Beansie will do this with anything – including shoes and the occasional piece of paper – so I may be projecting right now.)

I’m nattering on about this because I broke a gargoyle last week.  This is surprisingly hard to do, what with them being made out of concrete and resin, but I managed it. This had two results:

1)      I felt TERRIBLE.

2)      I had to redecorate my living room.

Now, I’m no Martha Stewart – I’ve never ONCE been convicted of insider trading, and as I’ve mentioned previously, I suspect she’s not even human – but I tend to think I’m a fairly good at decorating. However, the broken gargoyle situation has thrown off the entire balance of my living room and – as you might guess – it’s FREAKING ME OUT because oh, how I love balance. (This is also why my office continues to bother me, and I keep rearranging the furniture in there. Balance. I need it.)

Does anyone have tips on how to repair a sadly broken gargoyle?


*I think. Math, whatever.

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