peeling paint

I am a rat.

That may come as a shock to you that know me as a human, but really, loath though I am to say it, I’m a rat. Where rats chew, I peel. Have since I was a kid. I remember the yellow (so 70s) painted bookcase in my Marietta room. It was clearly painted with an oil or acrylic base top coat, because one sleepless night I noticed a little tear in the corner and my 4 year old self realized I could keep pulling more off; needless to say, my parents were not thrilled about the carpet/paint fleck combination. I peel paint, I peel skin, I peel anything that allows me to. Unsurfacing is a pleasure (and not really a gerund appropriate word).

Not only am I a rat, I’m also kin to chlorophyll. Though normally lacking in a green hue, I do somehow convert energy from the sun to activate myself. Combined with strong coffee, this has become a very annoying trait in me from time to time. It’s slightly obnoxious to me, but really bad for those around me. Amphetamines surely have limits that my current state would not recognize.

All of this is just to say, that I wish I could peel paint off of walls tonight. Or focus enough to write. But the spring and the green and the coffee and the twitch of AWARE may make it difficult. Then again, there are some aspects I need to scrape clean. Could be fun. Aren’t you glad you are all at a safe distance?

One response to “peeling paint

  1. No we want to be close to you. Distance does not mean safety. But peeling is not so bad; at times it uncovers something beautiful. Remember that armoire that you bought at the auction (nine years old),? If we hadn’t peeled that black paint off you would have never seen that burled walnut.

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