You can't hang at Bob's place anymore by Bob Karolevitz We're running out of wall space at our house.
If I have one more thing to hang, I don't know where I'll put it.
Pictures are nice and so are family photos, but they should have a place of prominence, and I am frustrated unless we add another room.
Maybe our house is unusual, but I don't think so. Or it could be that the accumulation over the years has used up all the walls. Whatever it is, I'm at wit's end to find a spot not already taken up by a framed something-of-other.
I suppose I could start putting things on the ceiling like Michelangelo, but I've got enough trouble making nail holes in walls I can reach without a stepladder.
I guess I should start doing like the art museums � put a picture up for a while and then replace it with something else. Of course that would give us a storage problem, and Phyllis is already on my case for having so many boxes of miscellaneous stuff under foot.
There's nothing to do but call a moratorium on items which have got to hang some place. However, that's easier said than done.
People want to give you things that require wall space. Every art show features paintings that we'd like to have. And there are all those certificates and plaques which should be displayed to prove that you haven't always been sitting on your duff doing nothing. It's a quandary, that's what it is.
On the other hand, I've gotten kinda good at pounding nails in the wall. I hardly ever hit my thumb any more, but my opportunities are getting less and less. Maybe I should hire out so that my talent doesn't go unused.
I could call on Phyllis for references, but she has some reticence about my abilities with a hammer. I think it all started when I poked a hole in the plaster board � but that's another story.
They say a house shows its personality by what is hanging on its walls. In our case, then, ours must be something for the psychologists to ponder.
We've got paintings � good and bad � by friends and relatives, souvenirs from World Wars I and II, a few religious items, photographs of parties and reunions, an athletic memento or two, knick-knacks galore � and my favorite � a banner with the saying: "If the good Lord wanted most of us to see the sunrise, He would have scheduled it later in the day."
Needless to say, we've got a mish-mash, but it's all ours for better or for worse. Now, though, if something else comes along, I don't know where I could squeeze it in.
I'll just have to stack it on the floor which is also getting cluttered.
"How am I going to use the vacuum cleaner around here?" Phyllis keeps asking me, and I can't answer.
It could be that we'll have to move to a new house and start all over. But then what will other people do with all those nail holes?
We'll just have to stay put, I guess, and hope I won't have anything else to hang.
© 2003 Robert F. Karolevitz