Greetings from the Omnigraphic Blogopticon. On view are vile sticky things dragged from the attic, snarky commentary on the world at large, and all-encompassing ennui. All that and a weird rubbery smell. A horrible time will be had by all.

Monday, April 6, 2009

Demolition Woman

This weekend I decided to finally rearrange my bedroom to make better use of the space and to put all this crap I've collected up on the walls where it belongs instead of being propped up in every corner. I was originally going to move out of this place when my lease was up last month so there was no point in hanging up anything for two months only to have to take it all down and pack it up. The landlord wanted me to stay so they didn't raise the rent, I guess to keep from having to give me back my deposit.

I finally put some things in frames so now I have my autographed photos of Milton Berle, Hans Conried, and Bob Hope up on the wall behind the TV, and a few more antique photos in the bedroom. Paintings got shuffled around. The bed is going in a different direction so I'm sure I'll get up without my glasses and run right into the edge of the bathroom door.

I swept up enough cat hair to make about three more kitties. I think Damien invites his little kitty friends over while I'm at work and he shaves them because I can't imagine how one teeny little orange cat can shed that much hair. It wasn't even orange hair.

While I now have two nearly pristine rooms I sort of lost it while cutting down a giant crappy old poster frame into a smaller crappy old poster frame. Did you know crappy old poster frames stink like hell when you saw them apart? I'm guessing there is something smelly that is grown and harvested for the sole purpose of making crappy old poster frames.

Observe my living room, now looking like some crazy person lives here. Or an art student. For some reason I needed to dump out an entire tool box to build one frame. That red-handled stapler is pretty damn snazzy because not only does it fire staples all over the place, it also shoots several species of nails that tend to ricochet off the wood and wind up who the hell knows where. Not only can I do half-assed carpentry projects, I can make my living space dangerous to be in.

The cat has regained his ability to become invisible--you can see him just dematerializing off to the left, probably because he knows there's still a couple doses of medicine in the bottle and he's a little tired of me pouring it down his throat every day.

Tomorrow I'll tackle the studio and finish demolishing the living room because there just isn't enough stinky sawdust stuck to the bottoms of my feet and I'm sure there's at least one more bag of cat hair under the furniture.


Obsidian Kitten said...

Cats are definitely not big fans of any sort of change.

Are you saying some sort of crazy person does *not* live there?

VW: rednessa

Severina said...

If you call this living...

Scott said...

Heh, "studio". You're trying to make it sound big, aren't you?

Severina said...

Well, it's bigger than it was. I can actually work in it now plus it's the same size as the graduate students' studios at school.

What, should I call it by its original use, the dining room? Nobody in their right mind would eat in there.

BlackCrow said...

Are those tools real, cos they look so much like my friends 4 year old sons tool kit. Doesn't look like you could do that much damage...but I do hope you have first aid kit on hand!
I need to do something about my "studio" or should I call it the second bedroom??

Scott said...

That's her Bob the Builder toolkit.