My house has a lot of memories that are definitely some of my favorites. From the kitchen that definitely contains my favorite things, to my room that houses my insanities emerges the room that, to this day, contains the memory to end all memories. The Game Room. Once a quiet room that held my musical instruments, workout equipment that never seemed to rid itself of the cobwebs, and an innocent white couch. (Keep this in mind as you continue your reading.) The game room, on this particular afternoon, offered an escape to begin a new project for my new bedroom. An old wooden frame of my first guitar tempted me, and I gave in. As I walked to the garage to retrieve the OIL-BASED BLACK PAINT that sat on the shelf. As I began to finish my project, I decided to do some cardio, and run a bit. HA! With the paint can on the couch, lid opened, I forgot about gravity. Yay. As I threw my towel on the couch, I heard a loud THUD, and watched as a cloud of black paint stained the white couch and the brand new white carpet. As I began to scream, I knew my life was over. Trying to mop up the paint with white towels, I knew there was no salvaging my world.