Hanging about.

Conversation in head, me to me:  In the morning I'm going to hang Hugo Haas above my bed.  

Hugo Haas is one of my very precious Astrid Kirchherr 

Beatle photos - the only one with all five original 

members -  bought from the Silver K Gallery in mid 

2002 when I was  in recovery from spinal surgery and

off my tree on pain pills.

And the moment the declaration was out, a whole anxious back peddling vibe followed, dictating that I wait.  

Oh my goodness.

I'm actually nervous about hanging pictures on my walls.

Shocking.

After all these years of renting, and banging nails in others' walls with gay abandon, I am finally in my own house, paying my own mortgage, with my own walls to do with as I will... ...and I am set upon with hangers' block. 

I'm going to have to sit with it, though.  I don't have a proper vision for my room, and shelves and walls still need to be sanded and painted before I can do anything anyway.  So I'll suppress my urge to get drilling and focus instead on the menu for Sunday lunch.