This is an actual snippet of an email received from my daughter. I swear.
Yes, I may go home and paint the linen closet. I really need to stop reading Design*Sponge.
Unfortunately (or fortunately depending on how you look at it) she has inherited my compulsive urge to fix things, make things and generally repurpose everything around her, usually on the cheap. If you ever see her with a can of spray paint in her hand do not stand still for very long because you will be turned into a lamp. She is constantly devouring ideas from the web, magazines and HGTV, and her impeccably neat apartment looks like something out of a magazine.
I don’t expect her to outgrow this mania; at 47 I’m still remodeling, rebuilding and replanting everything in sight. These things happen in bursts, but happen they do. My latest project, a slipcover for my couch, will be posted soon. My parents are to blame for this do-it-yourself obsession; I’m sure I was the only kid in grade school who had a radial arm saw in her dining room. Remodeling was a fact of life for me, and it still gives me a curious sense of satisfaction to create something. I’m glad the apple hasn’t fallen too far from the tree.
Actually, Sean would make a great lamp if you could find the right shade.
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