We have dangerous stairs.
For a lot of reasons.
It is where carpet meets tile means laminate floors. Slick city. We eat downstairs. This means maneuvering plates of food down two flights of stairs. Hoping not to slip. Or drop.
I've managed to slip twice. First time was an early date with HTB. It involved spaghetti. I managed to hold on to my spaghetti. I think this is why he continued to date me.
The second time, this winter, I dropped red hot buffalo wing chicken dip. It started off here.
And it bounced here. There were large glops of it right where the stair meets the wall.
It came to rest somewhere at the mid point of these stairs.
HTB just walked away. His face looked bad. The remnants of dip didn't look too good. The carpet looked worse. We were making it to eat while watching the Cowboys play. They looked the worst.
Did I mention we have white carpet?
Did I mention there was orange dip all over the foyer? And by all, it was eye level the whole way down. Arcs of chicken, cream cheese, and hot sauce.
4 hours in all it took to clean. I had an aversion to all the above ingredients for a few months. HTB made the dip again, but he used less hot sauce, and he carried it downstairs. He who drops is he who cleans . . .
We need a warning system to keep us safe.
Thank goodness I stitched one.
Thank goodness I had backing fabric. In the perfect pattern. And cording remnants, enough to go round. And I can halfway tie a bow.
We're safe now. It's not the best first attempt at an easel finish, but it was pretty good. I have a book about Maryland lighthouses, there were a few "off" attempts. They were a good start and served a need, and when they knew better, they did better.