Artful Scheme of Happiness

Dishpan Hands

Greeting from Maison d'Art! My own, my very own, home.

So, why did I think that the moving would be the hard part? It was a breeze! It couldn't have gone more smoothly.

Little did I know that the unpacking would be the hard part. Washing dishes that hadn't been out of boxes for over four years ... finding things I didn't even know I owned ... discovering sweaters that are pretty much only good for packing material (though I vaguely recall that they were cute, once upon a time). Thank God I had help from my friends!

I just this minute finished unpacking the kitchen. Everything is washed and put aay, and it's looking pretty good. (I seem to have lost a few dishes along the way ... three plates? Oh well, it will be fun to pick out new plates for my new home.) Now on to the living room.

I've only hit one snag, and that is that my couch won't go upstairs where it's supposed to go. I've owned this couch for 10 years and I love it to death. But it's HUGE, and I don't mean huge in that ugly late-90's shabby-chit overstuffed sort of way, just regular old HUGE. (What do you want? I'm 6'4".) So either I get rid of it, even though it has 10 to 20 more years of stylish usefulness in it, or I have a couch in the dining room. Maybe if I drape it artfully with a throw, no one will know that it's there?

Back into the fray....

posted by art @ 11:40 AM

Goodbye, whore!

I took my last morning stroll down Whoraura this morning. I was hoping for something exciting, in no small part because I was awakend by a whole bunch of sirens at the crack of dawn (big raid? drug bust?). But my walk was uneventful. So I only have the walk home left, and then I am done with my strolls down Aurora.

Hmmm.

posted by art @ 7:47 AM

Big head

I haven't gotten my hair cut for almost two months. My stylist seems to think I can go this long between cuts, whereas I'd prefer to have a little snipped off every week so that it always looks the same. To be honest, my stylist is a bit of a drinker, so perhaps hers is not the best judgment on this issue. My appointment is scheduled for next Friday but it's increasingly unlikely that I will be able to wait that long.

This morning I walked into the bathroom at work (the first thing I do every morning -- I need to wash the bus off of my hands) and talk about Mall Hair! My bangs looked as though they had been curled straight back with a curling iron. I almost started crying.

There's an establishment in the lobby of our building called Hooters Hair (that's not the business name -- just what everyone calls it). I might have to go in there today and get this mane chopped off. But I know they like to load you down with gel before you get out of there, and I can't be having that. Though which is better, gel head or mall bangs.... Hmmm.

posted by art @ 7:04 AM

Count down

Two weeks from today, I am moving. Moving into my own apartment, an apartment I will own. How very odd. And frightening. And fun.

I took another continuing education class the other day, during which I tried to lay out where the furniture will go, and what furniture I still need, and what colors I might like to paint everything. Heading the list of needs is a dining room table and chairs, so I can throw dinner parties (where, owing to recent budget cuts, each guest will enjoy one-half of a packet of ramen noodles and a small glass of tap water). Keep your fingers crossed that all goes well. (Of course it doesn't help that the huge case that was keeping me in the black SETTLED last week.)

In my effort to bring you as many humorous bus stories as I can before I move to the good side of town, I have this:

the other day there was a tiny little old lady on the bus. So old that she had no teeth and her lips had shriveled and retreated further than usual into her little old face. I thought she looked rather forlorn, but then I am prone to thinking that most little old toothless ladies look forlorn. So there she was, as glum as could be, probably thinking about the good old days, when all of a sudden she pulled out a newspaper. Now I have to confess, I was surprised that she could read, much less navigate the sea of bags she was carrying in order to find, then open and balance on her lap, a newspaper. But little old ladies like to read, it keeps them sharp. She also got out a small pencil, to note down little points to discuss with her fellow nonagenarians.

And then she flipped to the racing pages, and within three minutes had noted which horses she wanted to bet on, and how much she was betting on each.

posted by art @ 3:28 PM

Plus ca change, plus c'est la meme chose

By the end of the month, when I start complaining about my landlord, I'll be complaining about myself! I bought a condo last night and assuming the inspection goes off without a hitch, I will be living on my own in no time!

Of course, this means I will be taking a different bus....

We'll see if I have to shut down my blog for lack of content after the big move.

posted by art @ 7:09 AM