Trading Spaces can't touch me.
With my Roanoke plans imploded, I turned my attention this weekend to my house and getting it's act together.
A couple hundred dollars later, I am getting somewhere. The living room is there now and it's really worked out well. The colors have come together and with a lamp here, a table here, voila. (Yes I am hetero, what? No, I don't even know what a "metro" is!) The kitchen as well is looking good.
Roanoke is re-re-re-re scheduled for the weekend of Nov. 21 and not going is not an option, it being my Mom's b-day and all.
As is well known, I have a theory that people tell you all you need to know about them by their vehicles and what they do to them.
The latest is those bullet hole stickers I am seeing displayed. Now how is this cool? Yes, I want to look like I have had my car shot at because....? For that I live in the Projects look?
Regardless, it's helpful to know this because I'm doubting that the person who can answer those questions and I need to hang out anyway. It's right up there with the Garfield tail hanging out of your trunk, but a totally different demographic.
Lastly, the cute, furry, woodland creatures saved by me count continues to pile up. Last night a 'possum was spared by me. Certainly not cute I guess, but rather furry and woodland all the same. So the number of virgins waiting for me in heaven grows daily by my good deeds.