At least that's how it is with me. By Saturday, this house will by gods look like I live here. That's all I'm saying. And before too long, the new paint colors selected from the chips I'm going to pick out tomorrow will be on the walls, slipcovers will be in place, and we will never, ever speak of this home looking like a wreck again. Ever.
I will not break my promise to Didge of putting a KISS shower curtain in the downstairs bath, the one that guests use, regardless of the fact that they might think Gene is going to stomp upon them (or Ace kick them) while they're in a somewhat vulnerable position. Nor will I go back on my word of all of this work NEVER resulting in a "museum house", where I complain about trash being chucked into trash cans I've just emptied or have towels that no one is allowed to even look at. The "Christmas" lights stay, the toys stay, and it will still smell of Nag Champa.
(I have to clarify those things because Didge is really worried I'm going to improve this place to an unlivable state.)
So. There. I've declared it, planned it, and invited family members over on Sunday for a small pre-birthday gig for Didge to solidify it. I've also employed, at long last, the help of my mom - - who will not let me stop until this is done. There is no turning back. Getting in our way would not be prudent at this juncture.
Fingers crossed that I don't hurt myself and wind up bedridden.
2 comments:
Sadly, as an eternal child myself, I feel Trey's pain. After being in live-in relationships for years, I now find myself living alone (by choice) and without a clue of how to decorate my home like a real "grown-up" might do. I teasingly told a female friend awhile back that I desperately need a decorating clue, and if I don't get one, I'll just hang blacklight posters on my walls and crank up my lava lamp and incense burners.
Being a sophisticated female, she wasted no time in offering (or maybe she was pleading?) to help me decorate in a somewhat "normal" fashion. Well, apparently she's gotten sidetracked during those two months and I'm still living in this haphazardly-designed bachelor pad from Hell.
Please pray for me to find some divine decorating guidance. If praying isn't possible, simply tossing some mystic chicken bones voodoo-style or sacrificing a stray cat will hopefully give me inspiration.
Or should I just move in with another female in her pre-decorated abode (with normal furnishings), even if it means remembering to both lift and lower that special seat at 3 am so no one falls into the depths of the Porcelain God?
Life is truly confusing -- why can't I just make some distinguished-looking furniture out of Legos???
I'll do the decorating voodoo for you! I don't believe in "grown up" decorating. I have red and blue mini lights, Hello Kitty, the Pillsbury Dough Boy, a "rooster god" named "Buck", and (once the bulb is replaced) a blue lava lamp - - just in the kitchen. There's also a poultry chorus line. I used to keep my olive oil in an old peanut liquer bottle that featured somewhat politically incorrect nude women parading all around. (Hint: The metal trim on the top of the bottle mimics their neck rings.) I'd love Lego cabinet and drawer knobs! But I think Trey really fears I'm going to trick him and try to make it look like a page out of (hack, gag) BH&G.
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