Had you said to me before yesterday that I would ever hold the above sentiment, let alone commit it to writing, I would have told you that you needed to call the white coats on yourself. (And I do hope that my mother, if reading, hasn’t already fainted!).
So, let me explain why I would make such a preposterous statement.
An olive-coloured pirate’s chest! And my mailbox key works on the lock (hmm, I guess this means I’d better not store valuables in it…given that my mailbox key operates on at least two other mailboxes in the building – as I learned purely by accident, I assure you).
I LOVE these occult candles. Two to three bucks each at any decent dollar store, and they last forever! I used to have the whole collection: (alleged) Put A Hex on Nine People, (alleged) Find Your True Love, (alleged) Find a Job – and let’s not forget the whole Jesus and Mary collection. Right now, I’m down to this one and the (alleged) Good Luck In Your Court Case that I keep at the office for special occasions.
(I don’t know what the “alleged” is there for. I suspect someone sued one of these companies for big bucks at some point when their hex didn’t work, they lost their court case, they didn’t get a job, etc.)
But back to the regularly scheduled programme. I also spotted this:
I must tell you that I exhibited my usual forbearance and considered deliberation in this acquisition (Good Kristina having made a sudden reappearance… back from her hangover at the hands of Evil Kristina, apparently!), because I don’t really “need” another rolling bookshelf. Really, I don’t.
I even made it back up to the apartment without it (having initially decided it would be very useful if only to roll pirate’s chests in from the large garbage disposal). Also, I was rather fearful that JJ would have me committed if he came home last evening from work to find yet another piece of “rescued” furniture.
Here is a snippet from the last conversation we had on the topic:
JJ: When we moved in here, hen, you had all those furnitures from IKEA. You said you were sick and tired of looking at them, so we went and bought a total set of replacements. Now you’re bringing in things again from IKEA???
KB: (sulking) It’s not from IKEA…
JJ: Correction – it WAS from IKEA before some wanker bought it and kept it in their flat for five years and then – wisely, ah might add – threw it out.
KB: But I have a plan to decorate it.
JJ: With broken plates from the Goodwill? I try to provide well for you, yet you insist on bringing in garbage and junk and playing with it.
KB: (sulky pause)
JJ: And just where will you put it, anyway? There’s no room! We have a living room set from Leon’s and a dining room set from Idomo…
KB: (giving the silent treatment, which is a big challenge indeed, when you’re KB)
JJ:… so I guess it’s just going to sit in the spare room for a year or so and then migrate to the storage locker, am I right?
The hell of it is… he was right!
So, I was just going to leave it down there. Then – ANOTHER benefit of housework! – when desperately seeking the vacuum cleaner, I came across this long-forgotten cache from Goodwill:
Perfect for covering the bookshelf!!!
So, up came the bookshelf into the craft materials/yarn stash black hole otherwise known as the KB/JJ household.
(As an aside, I should note that JJ approved highly of the pirate’s chest and suggested I upholster part of it to use as an ottoman. Excellent idea! He either didn’t notice the bookshelf or ignored it. However, he will certainly notice it tonight once it has broken colourful dishes all over it! OPA!!! )
More characteristically, however, I should also mention that yesterday also provided a lesson in the benefits of procrastination. This, by the way, is actually a lesson I don’t really need, as I am a highly educated, extreme morphomeni* – in fact, I’ve been putting off defending my PhD thesis entitled “The Perils of Procrastination – Why the Greeks No Longer Rule the World” for some five years now.
* “morphomeni” = “learned” in both Ancient and Modern Greek. Some have even told me that I am para-morformeni (i.e. over-schooled) – repeatedly, like the male relative who shall remain nameless but who keeps quoting the gringlish phrase “Booooook smarrrrrrt, life stupid”. My answer to this is typically to sing this little ditty – at least to myself under my breath. Which is probably just as well given my singing voice.
However, for those lesser mortals who still benefit from ongoing education… in my ever-so-organized fashion, my list of things to do yesterday included removing all of the recycling which had grown to epic proportions due to the bloody Toronto Star insisting on sending “free” newspapers that we don’t even read (because, of course, there were no empty whisky or beer bottles. Well, maybe one or two) – no later than 10:00 a.m. By the time I actually made it down there it was 4:30 or so.
And – I was just in the nick of time!
As I was coming in with the chest, the building superintendent whose name begins with “M” came out. He looked at me with disbelief and disappointment and said, “I was out here half an hour ago and that wasn’t there!!!” You snooze, buddy…you lose.
Oh – also, when cleaning I came across this which was hidden underneath a bunch of old cigarette packs with phone numbers written on them and some Canadian Tire money:
I can’t remember if I posted this photo before or not. It is my Crazy Watermelon plate – I acquired the base plate a couple of years back from Goodwill and added the tile, beads and grout. I quite like it.
I took the mirror out of its actual frame (having spraypainted the frame blue) and glued a border of mixed tiles, beads and sea glass on the backing. Then I cut up the mirror, and repositioned it into the mosaic “frame”. I then stuck beads and glass to cover some little nicks.
The grout was chapparal brown mixed with cadmium red and burnt siena pigment.
Now, if I were a really deep and pretentious artiste-type person, I would tell you that the symbolism of this piece involves a deep sociocultural commentary on the fate of many young women who spend hours on end looking at themselves in department store mirrors, hating what they say, and feeling fractured and very blue as a result.
But I am not a big artiste, nor am I big at understanding symbolism until it beats me over the head after the fact and completely depresses me. So, I’ll tell you only that I love looking at blue and white glass and china, and that it is named by one of JJs favourite expressions: “No mirrors in your house, eh?” (which expression, when directed at me, is usually followed by “Why don’t you use that comb I gave you? Where is it, anyway? Did you glue it to a table or something?”)
Oh, and in case you had the thought that broken mirrors bring bad luck for some period of time… that doesn’t count when they are cut, not broken. Or so I keep telling myself…
Doesn’t it look better with these on?
Anyway, the in-house review process is now complete, more or less. JJ approved highly of this one (having disliked it immensely in its original form, as, really, did I). So highly, in fact, that it has pride of place above the sofa… where he doesn’t have to look at it while watching Nigella or The Daily Planet! Conversely, the verbal review on the mirror piece was “uh-HUH… um, well… it has an offbeat sort of look. Very modern.” Nice save, JJ!
Hmm. Better sign off. Maybe if I go back downstairs today those old rusted golf clubs will still be there…imagine the potential for pissing off the neighbours with a spiky sheaf of gold clubs protruding from the balcony rails!! heh heh heh.
Happy “Extra Hour of Sleep” Day!