The walls

It is spreading like a contagious disease. Off you go merrily to work in the morning and return home in the afternoon to find that the scrapbooking has leapt off the pages and on to the walls.

I wondered if she'd run out of paper, but no, there on the shelf is the usual rainbow of cardstock - this was graffiti, pure and simple.



I suppose I should have expected it - but I am concerned that the next logical step once she runs out of immovable objects to scrapbook will be to scrapbook some of the, err 'movable' one. That includes the cats (although I'm pretty much ok with that concept) the two junior Grendels, and Me.

No.

Let me make myself clear.

No.

Not at all, never.

I am certain that because of the impermanent nature of any paper friend adhesive when applied to the human body that any scrapbooking of my flesh would involve tattoos. Worse still is the though of how I may be embellished - titanium brads or somesuch I suppose.

Can I just state for the record that I am not acid-free and that I intend to commence lignin eating immediately.

Of course I could get my own back by hiring the painter from this cafe to come and apply a brush to our wall so that I can have my own copy of the formula for caffeine on the wall - my very own graffiti!