I wrote on the walls when I was a child.
I got my butt whooped a lot when I was a child.
I learned writing, drawing, marking, or defacing the walls in any way was a bad thing. Bad for my Mom, and really bad for me.
Cleaning writing off the walls is not an easy task. I speak from experience.
I no longer write on the walls. Even though the walls are mine and I can write on them freely if I want to. But if I did I would whoop my butt, make myself clean the walls, then I would put me in time out. I’d also be very mad at myself.
Having spent too much time cleaning walls, imagine my shock when my dear friend Margaret announced that she had become a big time writer of words on walls.
She encourages people to do this.
She advocates it.
Hell, she even sells the stuff to put the writing on the walls.
She is now a consultant for Simply Said Designs.
Have you seen this stuff?
It’s words. Huge words. Colored words. For walls.
As an adult, how could I ever teach my children not to write on the walls when I am doing it?
Doing it boldly?
With great joy, lack of fear, and total freedom.
Sure it looks pretty.
The words are nice.
The penmanship is gorgeous.
But it’s still writing.
On the walls!
She wants us to purchase this stuff to put these words, ON THE WALLS.
Purchase as in pay money.
Money to put writing – ON THE WALLS.
It may sound like I have a problem with her new venture. Not at all. I wish her the best of luck.
I’m just not sure how much success she will have getting people of my generation to write on the walls. Much less pay money to do it.
If she comes to my house and puts words on my wall she may just find herself scrubbing them back off as soon as she gets out of time out.
From the life and mind of:
Wanda M. Argersinger
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