I look at this wall every time I stroll down the hall from our bedroom (a.k.a. the sanctuary) to the kitchen (a.k.a. the cookin’ room). If I added up the number of times each day, I’d have to guess 15-20. Multiply that times, say, 340 days a year multiplied by 18 years since I hung those pictures. It adds up to being very glad we put down good carpet when we built this end of the house. I’ve grown so used to that unfinished corner I’m not sure I can ever bring myself to find another frame to make it symmetrical. Perfection isn’t all it’s cracked up to be anyway.

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