Now that that's out of my system, I'm so excited about my new place! The house is old and creaky, of course, and the eleven others who live here are all twenty somethings who drink too much beer and hang empty picture frames on the walls. I love it.
I also love not having to worry whether or not I'm washing dishes in a manner that will please the OCD roommate. It's so freeing! In fact, I think I might be the clean one now. And by "clean one" I mean "the one who bought a new shower curtain and threw the black moldy one out." But you know how I hate labels.
As I just mentioned, my room is a box. And full of shoes. Therefore, my room is a shoe box. Quite appropriate. Also, who needs posters when you have shelves and multiple pairs of glorious footwear, styrofoam heads, spiked headbands, and vintage sequin gowns to display on them?
To make the room seem larger (like a shoe box thigh-high boots would come in, as opposed to ballet flats), I painted the poop-colored walls crisp white, covered the shelves in matte black, and planned to strip the floors and stain them black as well. I was so passionate about making this space mine that I rented a belt sander - yes, I rented a belt sander - to break through the seven layers of shit-brown, robins-egg blue, and even shittier brown paint, exposing the gorgeous hardwood, and staining it dark. It was actually going quite well. I learned that you must use your entire being to keep the machine from flying out of your hands as it comes into contact with a surface. And I found this on the internet:
Then the paper belt ripped in half - part of it flying through the dust clouds and into the closet, while the rest kindly lodged itself into the belly of the machine. After unplugging the sander and attempting to fish the paper out with a flat-head screw driver, I decided to take it back to the hardware store, get a refund, and die another day.
Feeling defeated, I set up my bed. My twin bed, which takes up over a quarter of the room. After bookshelves, desks and dressers made their way into the equation, only a tiny portion of the floor is actually visible. I'm kinda glad the universe destroyed that sander. That being said, I still visualize myself stepping in shit if I walk on the floor barefoot, so a few rugs are in order.
Also, I see a radiator, and I want to paint it black.
Also again, I have a new man in my life. His name is Vladimir, and he is a pachira aquatica, aka, a money tree. As long as I give him water once a week he's going to find me a sugar daddy. He's made quick friends with St. Lazarus, who was here when I arrived, and who happens to be the patron saint of the poor. They somehow get along well.