Home Decorating

Today I framed six little pictures to hang in the hallway of my apartment. It's 2:15 in the afternoon, I have a sink full of dirty dishes, I haven't prepared my cub scout den meeting, I haven't ironed Husband's pants, I haven't SHOWERED, but I am content. See, that's the nice thing about being completely inept, craft-wise. The small victories give an enormous sense of accomplishment.

I don't have much excuse for being such a home decorating idiot. As a rules-following Utah Mormon girl, I have probably received more training in this area than 95% of U.S. women. I have hot glued ruffles on things that should never have ruffles. Things like toilet seats. I have painted and written on wooden blocks of every conceivable shape and size: a pumpkin for "Happy fall, y'all," a rainbow for "Every day is a gift," a sled for "Whooshing you a Merry Christmas." Now that I think of it, that rainbow was pretty darn gay-rights/AIDS-awareness for an ultra-conservative Mormon youth group. Maybe it's still in my parent's basement somewhere.

My apartment, which should be cluttered with wooden wall hangings and potpourri sachets, is cluttered with toy cars and peas. The peas aren't always there: Baby got a little carried away with his lunch. I'll clean them up after I take a shower. The toy cars are always there.