A few nights back I did something I never thought I had in me… I stabbed the Sheetrock with a pair of scissors, out of general, full blown, tear-filled…
My response was first shock, at my ability to do something so unlike me… secondly, I chose a different tool, a 14 inch paint brush, and continued to attack the wall a half dozen times.
Happened on an empty stomach, after too many glasses of wine, in my space out in the garage with my pups. I feel horribly about it.
If you remember, in my series of posts titled “Divorced But Never Married”, I wrote on the holes my fiancé liked to punch in walls, in our home with his kids.
It seems I can’t stop letting people down, especially myself.