Ellen Alarilla


I spent the last day of 2016 with a small, brand-new paintbrush and a small, brand-new can of white Boysen paint.  It was 9 am of December 31 and I told myself that, whatever happened, I had to finish painting the section of the wall that our cat, Moomin, had picked at for the last 3 years.  He probably noticed a section of paint bulging in one spot and had tried to poke at it with his claw.  After so many years of picking at it, I realized one day that the wall looked disgusting; the hole he’d made was large enough to be obvious even from outside the house.