Readers, I have been sadly remiss in my blogging duties. Thus, I’ll just give you some high/low lights. Ready OK!
I have been in the aforementioned state of sadly remissness mainly because I’ve been busy busy busy. I spent most of last weekend working on a freelance project for the Veterans Of Foreign Wars (will send you a link when it launches) and boss dude swears that we’re on the last round of revisions. He’s been super nice about the revisions, but really…for the scope of this Flash project, three rounds of fairly small changes really wasn’t that bad. If he had come back to me and said “everything in the Expeditionary Operation category needs to be redone,” I might have just considered shooting myself in the face to be the simpler option. You’ll understand what I mean when you see it, but for now it’ll have to do for me to say that Exped Ops ALONE took 6 hours. Silly me, saying that I could probably whip this out in 10 hours. I was surely on crack, as it took 32, before changes.
Anywho, I’m reasonably happy with it. It is high art? Well, no. But there wasn’t time for high art, and I’m willing to bet that a bunch of veterans want rectangles, not a bunch of crazy, and I’m double will that they don’t want to pay for the extra hours that crazy would cost. Big props to vivalalesley for throwing this work my way, as it has allowed me to purchase a washer dryer and a towel bar without wondering how in the hell I’m going to pay for it. The nickels and dimes of moving (and I haven’t even gotten to the mini blinds yet…more on that later) tend to build up, as I have spent some 300 dollars at Lowe’s in the past month. Not counting the washer dryer, which I also got on Lowe’s.com.
About the washer and dryer. They were much smaller in my head, and they are now precariously stuffed into Murphy’s room. I think some stacking of the two is in order. Meantime, I hope that no fat people come over and want to do laundry, cause I can barely fit in that room. In fact, fat people who are at my house may have to just pee in the yard for a while, as I didn’t realize the smallness of the door on the other bathroom until I saw Nathan standing next to it. “Ah, yeah…I guess that door is kinda skinny.”
I finally hung the towel bar, all by myself and properly I might add. “Properly” meaning “using the instructions and the plastic sinker thingies that go on the screws.” Usually, I would just nail those bitches into the wall. Installing that thing gave me a whole new respect for that lady who has that show called “Handy Ma’am.” She installs sinks and shit, all while having inch-long red fingernails that always look freshly-painted. I’m lucky if I cann get through and handy maam project without bleeding. From my head.
Speaking of which, I have also assembled some (poorly-designed, bullshitty) shelves for my hall closet. All of the crap that was stuff into my bathroom vanity and would fall out on my feet whenever I opened said vanity is now arranged into neat little rows of little body washes, feminine products….spray glitter. It’s a beautiful thing, and I have made it a point to show it to everyone who comes over. After 4 years in a tiny apartment with one closet, it’s so refreshing to be able to SORT things so I can FIND them. Totally new concept. I no longer have to keep spools of thread in my nightstand, I can put them on the “sewing stuff” shelf. There are also no longer books in my oven!
I have met a few of my neighbors. The neighborhood kids are either not very picky, or have decided that I’m the neighborhood MILF…which is weird cause I’m not even a M. This has prompted me to wonder if the pieces of fabric I have over my windows is not as opaque as I think it is. Have these people seen me get out of the shower? Have I counteracted that by redefining “bad naked,” assembling shleving in a sports bra? Are my skirts shorter than I think they are? I have to laugh it off because it’s not a good idea to give the finger to people who know where you live. Besides, when you’re 30, you’ll take sexual harassment however you can get it. Though it did make me a bit uncomfortable when the dude next door knocked on my door “just to see what you’re up to.” Well, I’m working…and I’m not hanging out wih you unless your girlfriend is present. I don’t need her suspecting that something’s going on. Besides, that’s a little too much neighbory goodness for me. He’s a nice guy, but he’s even nicer when waving from his own driveway. “A polite distance,” we call this. Like when you see somebody at goth night that you don’t really want to talk to because you’ll get caught in a 20-minute rehash of that person’s boyfriend drama. Just wave from across the room. You’re not a bitch, but you’re not getting sucked in either.