Monday, November 30, 2009

Perhaps Quasimodo Just Needed A Good Pair Of Curtains

I desperately need to hang up my curtains.

If you were to poll my neighbors, I'm guessing that they would feel the same way.

Since Home Depot, in its infinite wisdom, failed to dot all their I's on the work order for my window, the window guy needs to come back today and finish the job. Thus, I am waiting on hanging my curtains.

As a matter of fact, the shades that once hung in my bedroom (circa 1970?) no longer fit the window. DAMN! And they looked so "retro" and "cool".

Jinkies Thelma! I'm thinking Old Man Hanson needs to get some new curtains!

As I was moving my bed away from the window and taking down the shades for the window guys to come, I looked down to find the hopefully last bastion of anything to do with STBX. His dusty dress shoes that were tucked under the bed.

I threw them, along with the old shades, onto the floor and proceeded to have a lengthy conversation with all three of them. I stopped when I realized the cat was staring at me with all the wisdom that cats have. Yes, he finally realized his owner was insane.

If talking to the shoes weren't bad enough, I've also taken to slinking around the house, trying to duck down low enough so that I'm not on display for all the neighbors to see.

Not being normally paranoid, I spent yesterday painting in my living room with all of the curtains taken down in there as well. As night fell and I finally stopped painting, I went upstairs to take a shower and had to beware of that window. I then went into my bedroom and flicked the light on long enough to orient myself and then flicked it off so I wouldn't feel like the Old North Church.

Then when I went downstairs in the morning, I stood in the middle of the living room again and finally resigned myself to feeling like an animal in the zoo.

All I know is that I have developed a decided hunch in my back from trying to go undetected around here.

Tonight? There will be curtains. Tomorrow? Perhaps a visit to the chiropractor.

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