Remember when I hung my violins?
I still like 'em there. Trouble is, I've got instrument cases all over the place.
Now, combine that, with my intense desire to makeover my living room, and I came up with the fabulous idea of getting an armoire to hide music stuff.
Like this. They can be such a lovely centerpiece to a room, can't they? Course they can.
In typical Mandi fashion, I searched for plans to build my own, solid wood armoire.
(and looky here I even found one that I liked.)
And then I came to my senses. I'm on a spending cleanse, I want an entirely different room, like now NOW NOW, yesternow--
and this makeover involves paint, waaaay more moulding, and new furniture. And for that kind of dough, I'd have to get together with Walter White to fund the project.
Yes, we've been watching too much Breaking Bad lately. Thanks for noticing.
if blogging has taught me anything, it's taught me to do crap for cheap. Or, cheap-er.
All y'alls are buying all this thrift awesomeness and making it over and not slaving away chopping up 1 by whatevers and ripping plywood--
and I wanted in on this action.
"All I'd have to do is paint this time?? No freaking way."
Que disaster music. . . and. . . go.
First off, let us all think back on the time I told you about getting ripped off by a little old lady who promised me a certain violin was a "great little instrument".
Well, I purchased this armoire from a little old lady--
and she promised it was a "great solid piece of furniture. A steal of a deal".
I wasted no time tearing this thing apart, getting it ready for it's little makeover. And about this point is when I realized the only thing holding this pi-ece de poo poo together,
was the backing on it. Ya know,
I don't just make a mistake once. I like to make the same mistake over and over just to be sure.
What is it with little old ladies who sell things?
This thing can barely hold itself up. I feel like such a noob.
In my defense,
I had enlisted the moving help from a friend, and I hate hate to ask for help and waste people's time, and so I hustled this thing onto her truck and hauled it home, figuring that whatever was wrong with it, I could surely fix.
I was wrong. So so wrong. This piece of "furniture" is like The Money Pit all wrapped up into one little armoire.
I hate this thing. About every other day I make up my mind to kung fu it to the ground and then huck the pieces into the garbage can. Pretend it never happened.
Is this project worth saving?
I don't know-- flip a coin.
And ooooh, the plot thickens. . .
it's the elephant in the room. Jeffro is on a "Don't ask, don't tell" policy with this p.o.s. project. It kicked him out of parking in the garage for a week, and he didn't say one word.
I'm sure he muttered under his breath every time he walked past it and rolled his eyes 'n clenched his fists, but we never discussed it. He just parked outside, closed the garage door on it, and probably prayed I would never bring it up and it would just go away.
So! Stay tuned for another episode of "Can This Project Be Saved?".
Or better yet, someone tell me they've got a good, solid armoire they wanna sell me, because I've got a shotgun and a shovel, and I know no one will miss this thing.