The Creative Breakdown of Marriage
365 Writing Prompt
Writing Prompt: What have you done recently that’s creative?
Van Gogh is known as a Post-Impressionist painter and one of the most influential artists in history. He was somewhat deranged. Perhaps that’s what gave him the power to be creative and the ability to paint exquisitely.
Dude committed suicide at age 37. In the 1800’s the average lifespan was 38–50 years. It’s nonviable to say if and how many years he’d cut his life short. A story has been told that Van Gogh severed part of his left ear in a fit of rage and then gave it to a hooker as a sign of affection.
Severing an ear is a bit dramatic. I love my husband. I’m crazy in love with my husband, but I could never find it within myself to severe an ear for him outside of super drastic, extreme conditions such as being taken hostage by North Korea.
My story begins on our wedding day. Before our ceremony we asked the minister not to perform the typical vows. My husband and I both knew I would make a scene in front of our guests if anyone were ever to suggest I obey anything.
As with many things- most things, okay, all things we disagree on, decor is one of them. He’s got a Better Homes and Gardens style while I prefer more of a free spirited dorm room look.
When we first moved into our new home last fall our triplet Siamese cats were kittens. They were from hell. I swear they were possessed by demons. I’ve never seen kittens destroy everything in their path the way the triplets did.
One of their devilish acts was shredding the wallpaper in the dining room. Not all of it but around the bottom where they could reach. The kittens are grown now and though they’re still wild at times they have lost interest in the wallpaper, but I haven’t.
It’s been giving me a twitch from the last ten months. It pierces my eyes to look at it. It disappointments me. We live in this beautiful historic home….with shredded wallpaper in the dining room.
I said to my husband, “Let’s fix this so it doesn’t look so shitty anymore.”
My husband responded with his usual, “I’ve been looking into brown, wooden paneling.”
Of course he has.
Yuck, brown. 80% of our home is brown. I have my art studio and office but the rest of the house is brown. It’s a terrible color. Dark and drab, and sad.
A month had gone by and still nothing. I kept asking, “Yo, we gonna take care of it or what?”
I finally took matters into my own hands in full Erika fashion. The kids loved the outcome, but my husband- the look on his face said it all. He had this, “What the fuck did you do?” Glow about him although he flat out lied and said, “It looks great!”
“It cost zero dollars! I already had the materials and this way we’re not looking at shredded wallpaper anymore and it gives us time to fix it when we’re ready.” I pled my case.
It was obvious at every meal. There was a bit of sweat above his brow, and I felt heartbroken, and slightly offended. How could he not like it? I thought. How could he frown on my art work like that? I added emphasis with a, “damn him.”
On a scale from a painting hanging on the wall- to- way more fabulous than that, I hit it out of the ball park.
I was a woman scorned. My natural personality took over and did the only thing I could do in a situation like this.
I refinished the corner table to match.
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