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My living room will never be painted.

2005-07-14 - 4:45 p.m.

Like the pathetic slob I am, I sat at my desk counting out change from the bottom of my purse in order to purchase lunch today. The house, she makes us poor as the proverbial church mice. Faithful readers, if any of you can explain to me why it is precisely that mice within churches are at such high risk for falling off the low end of the socio-economic scale, I shall be truly and eternally grateful. Although I need to strictly embargo the ice cream-for-lunch phenonenom, as I have a wedding in November and have no wish to buy a new formal gown--and so must loose 15 pounds. 15 pounds!! This weekend sees me firmly into the gym--and if I'm not busy taping up my goddamn living room, perhaps I'll go tonight for yoga.

Yes, the whole painting extravaganza has spread out the love like cheap (and carcinogenic!) margarine. Tonight was supposed to see us putting on the last coat, thereby allowing us to relax tomorrow night while gorging ourselves on televised fiction of the not-so-scientific variety (or scifi, for those of you not up to following my yodaesque syntax), but has the first coat of paint been applied? Have the walls been primed? No, my sweets--nary a strip of tape is up. Actually, one strip of tape is indeed up, but R says it is crappy and needs to be redone (and since he was the applier, this statement was not greeted with angst and grumbling and sotto-voce comments such as "Fine! I can see I'm no good at anything around the house! Do it yourself, since I suck so much," but rather with a gentle nod of assent). So tonight will hopefully see the last of the preparations, which is indeed a statement I have been making for the last four nights in a row. We STILL have to take care of some spackle. We went out to a hardware store whose name rhymes with Bowes, and I proudly fetched the specified brand of spackle while R was in search of nails or screws or something. But lo, when we arrived home with our bounty, it was revealed that the spackle was all dried out, and, adding insult to injury, already half used. Store clerks of the world, and those of a hardware store whose name rhymes with Bowes in particular, when a customer returns a product half used!, kindly do not replace it on the shelf for an unsuspecting spackle-virgin to purchase. It just creates more work for the all of us. I thank you, kind and gentle souls.

 

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