A while back–I can’t remember how long ago, maybe a few months, maybe a year, maybe multiple years for all I know–my mother-in-law gave me a framed picture of a mother and child with the caption “The greatest work you’ll ever do will be within the walls of your own home.”  Actually, no–what it says is “The greatest work you’ll ever do, [sic] will be within the walls of your own home.”  I never got around to hanging it up because a) I’m lazy, b) the artwork is not really my taste, and c) that stupid comma does not belong there.  If there were a pie chart of Reasons I Didn’t Hang Up This Picture, it would probably break down to 96.5% laziness and 3% that stupid comma.  “Not my taste” would barely register at 0.5% because really, I don’t have taste.  Not unless I’m confronted with a picture I’m too lazy to hang up that also happens to contain a misplaced comma in its accompanying text.  Then I suddenly get all highbrow.

Lately, though, my husband has been on a tidying-and-throwing-crap-away kick, which is a thing to be encouraged, and when he came across this framed picture that was just lying around gathering dust at the bottom of a stack of stuff on top of our piano, he asked me what I wanted to do with it.  That was a tricky question because I really didn’t want to do anything with it except make it never appear in the first place.  No offense to my mother-in-law or the picture or the sentiment contained thereon, but there’s just really no good place for it around here.  However, Sugar Daddy is not to be deterred from his de-cluttering mission these days, and such resolve is also to be encouraged, so I allowed him to randomly select a wall and hang the darn thing already.  He chose a wall in the stairwell, where we have a lot of other random pictures–or rather, we did have a lot of random pictures, before the fire happened and we had to pack them all up and most of them still haven’t been unpacked.  (I guess that would make this picture post-fire, eh?  It’s nice to have an accurate system for dating things.)

So on Sunday I came downstairs to find our newly-hung picture looking like this:

Well, that’s just a shame, isn’t it?

At first I thought, “Bah, we just hung that infernal thing and now we have to take it down and open it up and re-center the matting.”  Which isn’t much, of course, or it wouldn’t be, if I hadn’t been counting on never having to think about it again as long as I lived.  The more I think about it, though, the more its crookedness is starting to grow on me.  It seems a propos to our family, messed-up and ill-maintained as we are.  Really, if this is the greatest work I’ll ever do, I should probably take more pride in it, shouldn’t I?

Except that within the walls of my home, people will never use commas so wantonly if I have anything to say about it.