Today I must
1) purchase a black cumberbund and possibly a black bow tie
3) print the scenes from assorted Jane Austen novels I typed up yesterday
4) at least pretend to look at my concert music with an eye toward memorizing some of it
I love spackle. It's like frosting only you don't eat it and therefore cannot get fat from it. Aside that, all the rest of the frosting fun is there. I have a little can of it and a tube -- a tube! I can make spackle rosettes!
Technically, after I spackle (what a great word, spackle. It should be reserved for something better than home repair. It should be something someone in sequins and big hair does on a stage in Vegas -- "Did you see her spackle routine? Amazing!" Add an "r" and it's sparkle -- so the sequins are a natural choice.) I have to tape all the edges I DON'T want transformed into a marbelized mixture of medium rose and pale rose. Yes, yes, I know, damn it all, it's PINK. I cannot escape pink. I know there is a difference. PINK is the color used by Disney to shade their line of Princess play toys for little girls. It's a color that gives me gas.
Rose, on the other hand, is a soft, warm color that evokes flowers and glowing hearthfires and fuzzy blankets and early morning light just above the horizon. And I want to use the colors in the huge Peony print I have had for years now, that I bought after staring at it for almost a year and still haven't framed. Just one, huge, perfect peony blossom on a white field. It looks like an Image Composer Sprite. I love it. And I'm painting a whole room to match it. Well, it and the burgundy velvet covered Scandenavian design rocking couch (yes, couch, although it's really more of an oversized rocking lounge chair or mini-love seat -- it's hard to explain but it's one huge piece of furniture that you can sort of lay on and it rocks -- it's Scandenavian, what more do you need to know?) that will be going in there. I will also have to find fabric to recover the matching rocking chair because the horrible wooly burnt orange stuff on it just will NOT be seen in my house, much less in my pink room.
My ROSE room, damn it!
The Husband and I were arguing over the bookshelves I want in what will become my writing room, my office, my place to be creative or just stare or whatever it is I will do. You see, he's quite the carpenter and after pricing shelving, decided he would just build them. After all, shelves are NOT the hardest thing one can build. I had seen some ladder-style shelves at Pier One that I liked, and he offered to build shelves just like that. I saw some others in a catalog and showed him the picture.
"Well, mine will be like that, only with solid sides."
"Uh, I don't want solid sides. Just make regular book cases."
"Why would you want book shelves with open sides?"
"Ladders don't have solid sides. A ladder-style bookshelf with solid sides will just look like a lopsided box."
"You aren't going to see in the sides."
"They aren't going to be shoved in the corner, they are going to be centered on the wall. You WILL see the sides."
"It's a book case."
"So just make a regular book case."
"Why are you making such an issue about the sides?"
"Why did you say you could make the shelves like the ones I wanted and then decide to make malformed boxes instead?"
I'm not precisely sure what we were actually argueing about, but I suspect it's something like he wanted to give me something and I don't want what he wants to give me because I already knew what I wanted and solid sided ladder-esque book shelves aren't it. There's got to be a deeper issue involved in there somewhere.
Anyway, time to eat, dress, comb the cat-knitting out of my hair, refuse to let the state of the world as reported on the news get to me, and hunt down that cumberbund and bow tie so I can wear my penguin drag (formal concert dress) on Saturday.
I have spackled, but not taped, and I was prevented from leaving the hosue in search of cumberbund by a shocking lack of clean clothes. Thus, laundry, the dreaded beast, got onto my list and is swishing and swooshing right now.