While my friend (and talented writer) Amy recently shot me a “Girl, you’ve got more going on than anyone I know!” email, I think I’m not alone in completely neglecting my house unless
I. Have. People. Coming. Over.
My SO decided he actually wanted to celebrate his birthday this year, so we’ve invited some of our nearest and dearest to the humble abode. Which has put me in a frenzy of “oh crap, I can’t let people see my house like this!” The burnt orange shag carpet can be excused because it came with the house and I just haven’t gotten around to replacing it yet, but the fact I’ve been using TV trays as end tables for the past three years is just a little too close to trailer trash for comfort. Not to mention the decrepit lamp with the dented shade that I decoupaged (sp?) some five years ago in an attempt to salvage it which now is faded and lifeless, and often threatens to roll off the table in a suicidal death dive.
So we’ve determined I’m not Martha Stewart. (Actually darling Keri bought me a wall trivet that says that very thing…)
Today, I kicked it into overdrive. In a matter of hours, I managed to find an 8’x12′ rug for my hardwood floors in my living room (yeah, another thing I’ve been ‘meaning’ to buy for almost three years); two end tables that I liked and didn’t break my tiny checking account; a shadow box frame thing for an art piece my sister bought me a couple of years ago; a cutsie fun table cloth for the birthday boy AND complimentary napkins.
Since Ohio has finally ditched the nasty-ass weather (until October), I cranked the windows down and the sunroof open, turned the radio up and sang at the top of my lungs through every red traffic light in Fairlawn.
I came home, lunched on Flips (yes, chocolate covered pretzels) and Pepsi while assembling my new end tables, then managed to reach the climax of one of the projects I’ve been working on since January – My website at www.cristywright.com is now LIVE. Unless you have attempted to teach yourself webdesign AND frontpage simultaneously, you cannot possible know the hell I voluntarily visited. You cannot appreciate how many times I yelled at the screen, threw the mouse around, and caused the dogs to flee leaving little trails of floating fur in their wakes.
But not only did I persevere, the end result is BE-YOU-TIFUL. I did the happy-chair chance. What an accomplished and tremendously wonderful day!
Then foster-hound Tashi puked in my slippers.
At least they were on the burnt orange shag carpet.