Since everybody else was doing it, I figured why not? 

I moved out of the garret over the weekend and have been trying to put myself back together while putting in long days at the college.  It's that time of year.  I fully intend to weigh in on the bland, assbackward, retrograde GOP Feckshow later this week.

Because we have a new roomie coming in upstairs and I've found myself rather unexpectedly going on dates this week, I didn't have an opportunity to paint the room I'm in now before I moved into it, so I'm painting a little bit of wall at a time, scooting the furniture around, and painting the next patch.  I'm not sticking with the tangerine orange accent wall you see in the picture, and the other walls and the ceiling need serious rehab, too. 

The kind of week I've had this is the perfect job for me.  I primed the day before yesterday, and then grabbed a gallon of toffee crunch, and started painting the first free surface.  It was nice to just be staring at a blank wall for awhile.  I'm not sure about the toffee crunch.  A lot will depend on the drapes.  This weekend I'm going to Fabric Corner in Arlington with my home goods guru to get material.  Even if she's not available I don't think I should go alone.  I have an almost uncontrollable urge towards some shade of saffron, and may need to be restrained.   

I have spent so long under the roof with just one little window that having four — a big one to the back and a bay window on the side — is giving me anxiety.  I have no shades or curtains as of yet (didn't need them upstairs), and suddenly it feels like I'm sharing my room with about twelve other people I'm just getting to know.  The neighbors to the Southeast also have no curtains, and what I have learned is that people with no curtains tend to lead mind-numbingly boring lives. 

I, on the other hand, like to preserve at least a little of that aura of mystery that surrounds me, and I can't do that rollerskating around my room in my Hooters costume (Monday nights) or hanging from my sling as Enrico The Evil Clown spanks me with his spiked pingpong paddle (Wednesdays), or raising palominos (Thursdays).  I mean, *yawn*.

My bay windowside neighbors are more private, and I can attest to the fact that there's an irritating allure to a bedroom window you've seen open, when the curtains are drawn.  You start wondering why they drew the curtains.  You start taking it a little personal.  I mean, it could not have been because I was doing my Madonna "sex" thing again...


...could it?

It's so 1992.  I'm obviously being ironic.  Gawd, get a life.