you love me because i'm boring

last weekend derek and i cleaned out the bedroom closet. i went impulse shopping with mary before she left and we managed to drag home both a fantastic closet organizer and a tall skinny rack with hooks for my entryway. they're wonderful and silvery and have that baker's rack look to them.

nothing like going to the gigantor home supply shop as part of your girls' day, is there? she was actually the catalyst for this. she's one of those types who generally thinks over a purchase for some time. an impulse buy for mary is a pack of gum. of course i take her consumer skills seriously. once mary said the price looked good, i whipped around the corner to find a stray buffalo for my new goodies. in the process of hauling that thousand pounds of metal to the line, i managed to knock over (and admit to employees that i had done so because i was worried someone would trip over them) an entire display of shelving... thus leaving my wrist incapacitated to put together the entryway shelf. derek was so excited to see all the shiny shiny happiness that he obliged our squeals of delight as soon as we got back to the house.

now i can stop looking for the hooks to my coat rack! it is an item which has degenerated into a pole on a stick without its hooks. lame, but a fine thing for only two people's coats. only when tim and mary came to visit and we had no hooks for the second year in a row did i realize that it was probably time to just suck it up and call off the hunt. the pole-on-stick mechanism is still living (with much hope) in the corner of my bedroom until i can get some more feng shui going on in my mystery boxes. what kind of jackass would give away a coat rack with no hooks, right?

so anyway... we had that awful white wire shelving in the closet. you know, the kind that has you decide which hangers really need to go with which by virtue of dividers every few inches. ugh, how fucking annoying is that? i want to have the freedom to whisk my clothes to one side with a flamboyant flick of my hand. i want to push them back and forth with indecisive grunts. i want to be able to squish in an extra shirt and pants without my closet bitch-slapping me with rejection for wanting to hang up something i've only worn half a day. the stupid pisser that thought up those shelves as an efficient way to conduct your closet affairs was truly in torture mode at the time.

the cats somehow managed to refrain from freaking out when i hurled all of our crap out into the bedroom on sunday afternoon. (although bubba did look concerned that we might be moving again, so soon after he's finally gotten enough hair to spread around) after a few hours of playing with power tools and making a complete mess of things, the closet looks fantabuloso, baby! how is it that i technically have fewer shelves now and yet more room? oh yeah - those fucking wire things are gone. we also chucked a few empty boxes that must have had sentimental value at the time and rearranged the rest of the bedroom. can you imagine? i'm old enough to be in charge of the country and i finally want to keep a tidy room.

maybe we should take photos of the new and improved closet to impress mary and tim when we go see them this week. they should be happy that we finally made more space for them to hang their coats. pole-on-stick, your days might be numbered.


one thing i'm really tired of right now:
and you may be sick of this one, too. can SOMEONE please talk about barack or michelle obama without mentioning the color(s) of their skin?!?!? for crying out loud, people! who gives a damn? i beg the media to get back to the discussion about the presidential dog. at this point, even NPR is starting to sound like a bunch of racists. if i were in the obama family, i would be rolling my eyes so much they'd look like a sunset in fast forward. dear media, please stop embarrassing yourselves and move the fuck on to something else.