Perhaps you remember Step 2 of project "Untrashify the Master Bedroom"--
finally utilizing my gorgeous bed the daddy-o made for me many moons ago.
I wanted this baby white. And the hubs didn't.
It almost came to fisticuffs. Guns were drawn. Seriously ugly contention there, man.
He's all, "White? WHITE??"
And I'm all, "Do you have a problem with that bro-chacho?"
And he's all, "White can suck it."
And I'm all, "Dude you better watch your junk."
Not really. It went more like this:
"So you reaaaally want it stained? Like, realllly? REAAALLY? Sigh. Fine. . . but can I stain it really dark?" He's an X-Box and I'm more an Atari, see.
Best wife ev-er! You owe me big time, Jeffrey!
Anywho, I thought the contrast of really dark and all that white might be intellesting.
And so I got to work, and my dark walnut bed was born. Stained and shellacked this baby every day this week.
Took up all my space in the gay-rage and kicked me out, actually.
This might have been the point where I was all
hopped up on stain fume goofballs.
And so, this is what I had earlier this week, (gratuitous jump-roping 3 year old)
And now. . . .
Do I love my bed? Does a one-legged duck swim in circles?
Many thanks to the Daddy-o for such a beautiful present.
Olive it. It might look like it takes up the entire boudoir. It does. 'nt. Well, okay fine it mostly does.
What kind of an idiot does all white bedding? With 4 little gooey, nersty punks?
I gotta live my dream. Live and learn the hard way, but live, nonetheless.
If I'd had my pants just a little less on fire, and could actually wait a minute, or a day or two, my whole room wouldn't smell like fumes.
It's worth it, baby.
Behold my view from my side of the bed!
I now pronounce Step 2 ("There's so much we can do!") complete.
And note to self: pull up pants before jumping on bed. Thankyouverymuch.