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Oscar Wilde’s final words were, “Either that wallpaper goes, or I do.”

Man, do I sympathize.

I hate wallpaper. Actually, I should say, I hate wallpaper in my house. I keep seeing adorable patterns in magazines, but I don’t know where the hell people buy it, because I’ve never seen any up close and personal that I can abide. And with each house we’ve bought, we’ve inherited a collection of garish wallpaper. Apparently there are a lot of people with truly awful taste walking around out there.

Our new house was - thankfully - almost wallpaper free. The previous owners had only hung it in the alcove where our toilet is (what George and I like to call The Closet of Shame, because there's a door separating it from the rest of the bathroom). But still, every time I went in there, all I could think as I sat and looked up around me was, “Jesus, I hate this wallpaper.”

So finally, last week, I tore it down. It took hours – it was apparently pasted up with Superglue – and when I was done, my hands were sliced up and bleeding. But we are now – finally – wallpaper free. Hooray!

Posted 15 May 2006 at 01:33 PM