My "tattoo"

Thank you all for the feedback on the tattoo situation. That decision has officially been tabled for a month or two whilst I mull it over some more. For right now I want to talk about a tattoo of a little different nature.

A tattoo, by design, is a permanent mark on one's self, a marking made by inserting ink into the layers of skin to change the pigment for decorative or other reasons.

I have tattoos. SEVERAL tattoos. But, my tattoos are not on my skin, they are in various places in my house. Something that has changed the makeup of my house, not for decorative but for other reasons. And I want them removed.

Let me explain. When you enter my house you will see my washer and dryer. A design flaw really, or more like a lack of design since my house was built in 1892. So there they sit. If you look at my dryer you will immediately notice that there is a large dent in the front of the dryer door. That is a "tattoo." A permanent marking made my Jake's head connecting with it in a fit of rage that I would like nothing more than to remove.

Those markings are in various places in my house. They are visible and not so visible. Take for instance my couch. When you look at my couch you probably just see a couch. Unless you try to sit on it, then you will see the world's most uncomfortable couch and if you don't sit carefully you will also see a wood beam connecting with your.... well you get the point....

Anyhow, when I look at that couch I see the "tattoos." There is a hole in the fabric from when he burned it. The bottom is torn out from where he stashed his pipes and beer bottles. The back fabric is ripped for the same purpose. I can still see him passed out on that couch. That couch and I we are not friends.

Today, I went to the furniture store and I ordered a new couch. I'm not really quite sure I should have spent the money but I'm also pretty sure I don't care. I am paying for tattoo removal and it is worth every single penny.

So is the new bed that I ordered on Saturday. You see Jake took the waterbed in the divorce. It used to be his parents waterbed so in the spirit of all things nice I offered it to him and he took it. At first I was a bit pissed about this. Not really because I wanted it but because I am sleeping in it and he is just going to put it into storage.

I considered going into the attic and trying to rescue my old waterbed, or asking my parents to take the one out of my old room. (I have slept on a waterbed every night since I was about 10 years old) Instead I decided perhaps it was time to make new memories. So off Zack and I went to the furniture store to look for a new bed.

At first after I bought it I was a little nervous. Then today when I bought the bedding and the couch I was a little more so. Should I really be spending the money. Do I need it. Then something hit me.

In seven years I have never, ever had anything new that is all mine. For seven years I have been so busy making sure he had his new bow and arrow, new shot gun, second new shot gun when he lost the first one, fixed the jeep, fixed it again, another new jeep (did I mention at one point we went through three jeeps in 4 months), etc. etc. that I have never taken the time to buy anything big for just me.

And the more I thought about it, the more I wanted to cry and now, I am so excited you might find me dancing around my house. I couldn't be more excited if I was 10 years old and I just found out I was getting a pony for Christmas.

A new bed, new bedding, a new dresser delivered on Friday and a new couch delivered sometime in the next month. All steps towards making the horrible memories go away. All steps towards permanently removing those "tattoos."