Wires Wires Everywhere and Not a Drop to Drink!

No, these are not interesting wire sculptures that I discovered in some fabulous new Paris gallery ('though I suppose if I told you they were, you would believe me) . These are what will become the spotlights in our new bathroom ceiling, whenever anyone gets around to actually installing them. Which for all I know could take another year or two, at the speed which the work seems to be getting done lately. Do I sound bitter? Well, it's been a rather stressful last couple of weeks.

I am learning so much through this renovation project, and much of it is about myself. For example, the whole idea that I am a creative, imaginative person. This seemed to be the case, at least before this whole project got going . Yet when it comes to looking at messy rooms full of wires and exposed pipes and plaster dust, it's like all the imagination is sucked out of my brain. All I see are, literally, wires and pipes and plaster dust. And I want to scream. Not a healthy, creative, literary or artistic scream either, but just a flat-out scream of desperation.

It's quite depressing to realize that, deep down, one is not an artist at all but just another unimaginative materialist. Pass the vacuum cleaner.