I have a framed picture in my bedroom on a small table. It was drawn by a local artist, Kerri Boutwell, and I eagerly bought it several years ago.
Lately, on several occasions, I’ve noticed the portrait turned around and facing the wall. I’d turn it back, only to find it flipped around again several days later.
Finally, last week, I mentioned the odd ritual to my husband. “Have you been turning the picture around?”
“Yeah. I don’t like the cowboy staring at me while I’m in bed.”
“The cowboy?” I laughed. “That’s not a cowboy. It’s Mark Twain!”
Well, apparently it’s okay to have Mark Twain staring at him in bed because the drawing hasn’t moved.
Isn’t it a great picture? I never knew Twain was so handsome, even with the god-awful mustache.