i am a carpenter

I have taken to building things on my own because I hate waiting for someone to help me. Thus, the new Wal-Mart bookshelf in my room. The box weighed 70 pounds. Somehow I managed to fanagle it onto the shopping cart's bottom rack and get it to the check out line. When I got out to my car, I tried to make it into a sort of bridge from the cart to the trunk, but the cart kept moving backwards, taking me with it. I think my pants were also having a seriously hard time staying up, for some reason or another, so everyone in the parking lot got a great look at my underwear (green with stars!). A lovely stranger came to my rescue with the words, "I'M COMING TO HELP YOU!" shouted in alarm as they ran over to me, probably witnessing one of the most pathetic scenes they'd ever seen (and in a Wal-Mart parking lot, no less)! When I got it back to my apartment, I had to carry it in piece by piece.

At that point, I thought the worst was over. But I would soon find out just how wrong I was.

The box said it should take one hour for one person to piece together the bookshelf. It took me 6 hours (with a short dinner break) and the walls of my room acting as another person to get the damn thing built. A new tool kit, 40 nails, countless swear words, a pile of screws that didn't QUITE fit in the holes, and a tearful phone call to my sister later, I FINALLY HAD A BOOKSHELF.

I bet Jesus himself would be extremely pissed at the shoddy craftsmanship of a Wal-Mart bookshelf. I said his name enough times that he at least had to know what was going on in this little corner of the world.

But on the PLUS side, I am a carpenter!!!!

case of the grumps

I cannot watch "Bones" in my new apartment home because the internet is sketchy and slow and we're pirating it from somewhere else right now ANYWAY. It is like TORTURE.

I miss my cat, my whole body hurts from moving, I built a whole DESK by myself (!), I didn't really think about where I'd need to put clothes and have temporarily sorted them into separate boxes (shirts, pants, pjs, underwear, laundry), and the pole to hang clothes from in my closet must've been installed by a giant because I can barely reach it. I am unsure whose decision it was to paint the walls in my new room charcoal gray, but it is truly like living in a cave. Weird choice, former tenant! If I were to really live in a cave in my secret life as a hermit, you better believe that cave would have light fixtures everywhere. Hermits can be classy too, you know. I suppose I'd have to power them with a potato or a bike or something, or maybe a hamster wheel. Not important right now.

Also, I hope I start getting more hours at work because I need to go grocery shopping, and right now I have about enough extra money to buy a loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter. Which is fine, because I'll definitely eat it, but I'd like to at least pretend I don't have to live like a hobo.

I hope no hermits or hobos were offended by this entry. Say "hope no hobos" ten times fast. Bet you can't do it (I am in an instigating mood)!!!