It's about time

Nearly seven years ago, I started a painting of a fishing port. As it does with so many enjoyable things, life stepped in and stood between me and the canvas. Life also yanked my paintbrush from my hand and ate it. It then sucked dry every oil paint tube I had. Eventually, life would also sell my tall easel at a yard sale. But I kept the unfinished painting and stored it away in the attic.

Years later, my desire to paint was rekindled. I believed I had earned life's respect and was now in a better position to negotiate my time. And so, with a $300 A.C. Moore giftcard in hand, I would replenish my oil painting supplies. I was intent on finishing my fishing port painting.

Life shrugged and basically agreed to let me keep my supplies, but refused to relinquish my time. My unfinished fishing port painting rested in the attic, while $300 worth of art supplies sat in a tackle box in the basement.

Two more years would pass before I would announce to my wife, "I want to paint."
"You should," she said, "right after you list stuff on Craigslist."

I did just that. My wife also said I should set up my easel in the dining room. However, I knew what would happen: My easel would sit unused. I would grow frustrated with seeing the paints, canvas, brushes and easel and not being able to use them. It would get in the way and, eventually, it would all be moved: First, into the corner, then into the closet; then to the basement.

I decided to save myself some frustration and clear out a space in our dark, cold, dirty and damp basement.

I have finished my fishing port painting: It's a beautiful scene of simple paradise. Not quite like my basement.


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