As Promised

Now, it's not that I mind my mother reading my blog. I actually enjoy the fact. It's just that when your mother is the only one who appears to notice when you've been lazy about posting that gets rather worrisome. Then you descend into the "my mom thinks I'm awesome!" category that is somewhat equivalent to that idiom, "a face only a mother can love." As in, nobody else thinks you're worth reading.

But all that aside, this one is for you, Mom.

Also, Mom said I should think about decorating our house that we're buying. I told her that I thought about thinking about it. So here are my opinions of decorating: I don't decorate.

Why is it that it's always supposed to be the women who decorate? Where did I get this invisible decorating degree? Why would anyone assume that because I have a matched XX chromosome, I can somehow also match the drapes to the sofa? I only have one concept of furniture, and that is green. Sofas should be green. Cause that's what they were in the house I grew up in. Why? I dunno, are there any other colors for sofas?

Unfortunately, green sofas are just a dream at this point. I am currently saddled with several floral print sofas of dubious origins. I guess that means there is one other thing I know about decorating, and you should be proud because this is an opinion formed all on my own: floral print sofas are ugly. Which is why I have them as they are so often cheap-as-free. Maybe I could recover them or something. But even floral print is better than those ill-fitting sheet things that make it clear you hate your sofa just as much as you hate the idea of spending money on getting a decent recovering job.

But I digress.

I don't decorate. I have a computer game called The Sims 3 in which you run miniature soap operas of digital people in a digital world. Some people say they play it just to build the houses (or like my cousin, just to kill off Sims. Some people are strange in the head). I do not play it to build the houses. I'd use a prebuilt one if I could, but they never put in enough bedrooms or hobby space for my taste, so I have to resort to horrible rectangle things that demonstrate my very sparse view of house design, in that as long as there are walls, roof, and doors, we should be ok.

I wanted a mansion for my vampire/werewolf/etc clan. So I had David build it. But he didn't get as far as decorating. If there is a better example for why I shouldn't decorate, you should see some of the rooms in this place. Also, I can't get the trim to match the wood floors. Irksome. But, also, I get bored and just start throwing things together. This can be the green-themed room!

All this is because we are in the process of purchasing a house. And apparently there are expectations that come with home ownership, such as the owning of furniture, making of meals, and other domestic concerns. And as the person I am living with has an XY chromosome, these expectations fall to me... which is entirely stupid as HE is the one with the design degree, not I.

Here's another example. One of the bathrooms in this place is entirely gutted. To avoid having to travel to the basement every time I need to go in the middle of the night, the upstairs bathroom needs to be finished post-haste. And David is looking for stuff to do it with. He suggested we go to Lowes to take a look at some things. I suggest that I have absolutely no desire to go to Lowes and I just want to go home after we pick up the milk. He tries to deal, will I go if he has me in and out in ten minutes? I return, if it really means that much to you... but you have to take me to Noodles and Co for lunch tomorrow. He tries to bargain and I tell him there is no more bargaining. He's taking me to lunch at Noodles and Co and if it takes more than ten minutes, he's also buying me one of those snickerdoodle cookies the size of your face.

Well, we looked at sinks, I criticized some sinks, and we were out in nine minutes.

The steak stroganoff is delicious, by the way.