Tuesday, September 7, 2010

Night and day

This is what it looked like before:


I only lasted a week looking at that shit.  I said to myself, well who can blame the woman.  I would have killed myself too if I had to look at that shit day in and day out.  At first I was going to wait, I said, well, it might be ugly, but you just got here and you don't have a job so you really shouldn't go spending money on sheets and pillowcases until you have a job and have some money coming in.  Then I said, OK, if I have to look at that shit for one more day I am going to climb onto the roof of this building and jump off.  So I went down to Laytner's Linens to rectify the situation.

The painting had to go as soon as humanly possible.  I couldn't look at it anymore without wanting to stab myself in the eye.  I gave it away, to that dude from craigslist who has been so helpful, the one who helped me move my shit in.  I was foaming at the mouth to get it out, and the minute I did I was overcome with a hugely depressing and horrible feeling of guilt.  I have a feeling that she loved that painting and it meant a lot to her for some reason (because she was out of her mind and bat-shit crazy) and I'm sure she would have been extremely hurt and depressed to know that I was so eager to get it out of my house.  Because it was fucking hideous.

But I got over it rather quickly, and was grateful for the plain white wall underneath.  It's going to be forever before the place looks the way I want it to.  It needs to be painted, I need to tear up the carpet and refinish the floor.  I need this, that, the other.  Whatever.  It's getting there.  This is what it looks like now:


At least we're moving in the right direction.




Cassie said...

lol. You have such a funny way with words. This post had me cackeling like an old hen!! Makes me wonder what "treasures" of mine are indicative of my mental health!!

Lickety Splitter said...

One of my guy friends recently asked me why I didn't become a interior designer. I said, because I don't like anyone's taste but my own. I'm sure your mother would have disliked your taste as much as you dislike her taste, so yall should be even ;) God rest her soul.

I actually find elements in both of your styles that I could dig.