Framed.

I got my "Quai Des Orfevres" poster framed on Friday night. And, on Saturday, I put lots of double-sided tape on it and put it on the wall. And it was up there for a good half-hour before it fell off the wall, hit a bookshelf and cracked the plastic in the frame's bottom corner.

I am not, as I determined after a long deliberation, getting the frame replaced because the damage, though noticeable, is minimal. And I cannot just go out and buy another frame right now. Those things are expensive.

I had the frame less than 24 hours before this happened, which sucks. I still look at my poster adoringly, and it doesn't really matter since I've only had Larry and Rob the arrested-development kid over to the apartment in the month that I've lived there and I doubt seriously that I'll have any new guests over anytime soon. But my eye, when I look at the poster, does venture to the cracked corner first now, the dread growing in the pit of my stomach.

I ask you, am I white trash because I put a cracked frame on display?