I don't want you to think i'm maybe a slob is all.
Two things occurred to me after i published that last post and read it again:
1) I felt pretty bad about how i trash-talked Little Dog. So i went home on Friday and gave her a big squeeze. I think she forgives me. The Boy, maybe not so much.
2) In the picture of Big Dog, you can see the kitchen floor in my house. Yeah, go back and look at it, i dare you. Frightening, eh? Could you imagine living with and looking at something that horrific every day? No, not many can. But as you can see, i am clearly a strong person to be able to turn on the lights every morning and not scream. I swear to you it is not as dirty as it looks. It kind of has that special, permanent dirtiness that comes with crap, old linoleum. Where you can get down on your hands and knees with a scrub brush all Cinderella-style and still not receive the results you would expect. It's all scratched up and the pattern is worn off in places of high-traction. It is Permanent Ugly.
It is also embarrassing because it looks like we don't mind living this tragically dirty lifestyle.
I mind, y'all. I mind.
There is a lot of work that needs to be done to The Boy's house. Whoever (whom?) owned the house before the Boy must have thought he was some kind of carpenter/plumber/decorator, who in fact did a half-assed job on just about everything he touched. I hate it. The Boy has not gone through the headaches of fixing up the house, as apparently these things don't bother him. And why would they? The carpet is only a vile shade of pink, afterall. No bother.
Little by little i am trying to get through the list of projects entitled, "Keeping Claire in the House" or alternately titled "I Hate This NastyAss House and Sometimes it Makes Me Cry Out of Sheer Hopelessness".
Home improvements cost money, though. Lots and lots of money. Money that I don't have. Money that can very easily be dropped into a vacation fund so that The Boy and I can cruise the Caribbean. I find it hard to determine which avenue i want to go down because on one hand there is a new bathroom that i'm not embarrassed to let people use; but on the other hand, there is spending my 26th birthday in Belize City. I just don't know.
Do you know of anyone that enjoys hanging wallpaper? For beer and pizza and a hot 50 bucks? Anyone? No?
The supplies are already purchased as The Boy and I decided to try it ourselves. We failed, however and threw all of the rolls and scrapers in the closet - likely never to be seen again. Our bathroom is a horror show.
Eh.
1) I felt pretty bad about how i trash-talked Little Dog. So i went home on Friday and gave her a big squeeze. I think she forgives me. The Boy, maybe not so much.
2) In the picture of Big Dog, you can see the kitchen floor in my house. Yeah, go back and look at it, i dare you. Frightening, eh? Could you imagine living with and looking at something that horrific every day? No, not many can. But as you can see, i am clearly a strong person to be able to turn on the lights every morning and not scream. I swear to you it is not as dirty as it looks. It kind of has that special, permanent dirtiness that comes with crap, old linoleum. Where you can get down on your hands and knees with a scrub brush all Cinderella-style and still not receive the results you would expect. It's all scratched up and the pattern is worn off in places of high-traction. It is Permanent Ugly.
It is also embarrassing because it looks like we don't mind living this tragically dirty lifestyle.
I mind, y'all. I mind.
There is a lot of work that needs to be done to The Boy's house. Whoever (whom?) owned the house before the Boy must have thought he was some kind of carpenter/plumber/decorator, who in fact did a half-assed job on just about everything he touched. I hate it. The Boy has not gone through the headaches of fixing up the house, as apparently these things don't bother him. And why would they? The carpet is only a vile shade of pink, afterall. No bother.
Little by little i am trying to get through the list of projects entitled, "Keeping Claire in the House" or alternately titled "I Hate This NastyAss House and Sometimes it Makes Me Cry Out of Sheer Hopelessness".
Home improvements cost money, though. Lots and lots of money. Money that I don't have. Money that can very easily be dropped into a vacation fund so that The Boy and I can cruise the Caribbean. I find it hard to determine which avenue i want to go down because on one hand there is a new bathroom that i'm not embarrassed to let people use; but on the other hand, there is spending my 26th birthday in Belize City. I just don't know.
Do you know of anyone that enjoys hanging wallpaper? For beer and pizza and a hot 50 bucks? Anyone? No?
The supplies are already purchased as The Boy and I decided to try it ourselves. We failed, however and threw all of the rolls and scrapers in the closet - likely never to be seen again. Our bathroom is a horror show.
Eh.
posted by claire at
11:34 AM
3 Comments:
Wallpaper? Really?
Painting's SO much easier.
I assume there is a reason for the wallpaper.
By
Anonymous, at 3/23/2006 12:54 PM
There's always reason for wallpaper. Does anyone REALLY like wallpaper?
Truth is, the old wallpaper (pre-The Boy) was many-layered and tore up the sheetrock. We purchased a textured wallpaper that is made to be painted that will essentially cover up every imperfection in the sheetrock.
Good idea, bad paper-hangers. Wish i could just paint it...
By
claire, at 3/23/2006 3:35 PM
Shiftclick - that sounds like a great idea. I'll have to check it out this weekend.
Maybe its something i can actually do myself? I'm pretty spastic, so this is a concern.
By
claire, at 3/24/2006 2:55 PM
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