Let the books say what they do about me.
Half of them are unread.
Mod podge, modge podge, decoupage, call it what you want. It smells like carrots to me.
A single-serving sake cup now holds a pair of nail clippers, cuticle scissors, an Exact-O knife, and a comb. I probably shouldn't store these things together.
My mom's expired Tretinoin, two lip balms (not in use), a decongestant, and makeup that is certainly expired. All housed beautifully in a branded pint glass from Waterloo Records on Lamar & 6th.
An out-of-commission garbanzo bean can turned pencil organizer. Except I think theres maybe one pencil surrounded by giant paint markers, scissors, and my pocket knife.
My childhood marker organizer made it all the way to college. It's fully plastic and feels like it might break at any moment, but its contents were used to create every original piece in my room.
My mom bought these bottles when I was probably 14 and never used them. They sat unopened in what was deemed "the paint cabinet" I'm the laundry room, which rarely had any paint in it at all because my sister and I would drag it upstairs. These bottles just felt off-limits. Until I took them, of course.
My canvas primer!
My first real "artist's" purchase. The gesso is gone, this container has been refilled with leftover white paint four or five times over at this point.
Don't drink from the paint water jar!
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Instead, stand up. Because you must be crouched on the floor if you're looking at this part of the shelf. On your way up, the author of the quote you first encountered will take you back.