I was sitting in my sunroom yesterday, sketching the intricate, skeletal veins of a fallen maple leaf, when my eyes drifted to that sudden, jarring void in the plaster near the bookshelf. It was a small puncture, likely from a misplaced moving box, but it felt like a fracture in the soul of the room. …
A No-nonsense Guide to Repairing a Drywall Hole: Finding Harmony in the Imperfect