Well my math may be off. It usually is. Essentially, that’s when everything in my life changed…for the better, that is. I walked out on my job at the dress shop as a manager because they were being bitchy and I took a leap of faith to figure out who I really was.
Not that I know who I am now, I’m just…closer than I was 13,148,800 seconds ago.
I started my semi-dream job as a graphic designer. And well, that’s what I DO. I make art. Of the design kind, but also of other kinds, which I hadn’t done in awhile. Finally after all this time, I feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.
So, why do I say I stop caring? You don’t understand. Dress shop=stuffy corporate-pencil skirt-no creativity-too nice to everyone-high heels-dirty backstabbing bitch world. I don’t care about any of that any more. I’ve found sweet freedom.
‘Tis the season for prom over at the dress shop I work at. Technically speaking, prom season started a couple months back, but of course, every little high school girl in this area has waited until the last-minute. Poor kids. All the good dresses are already picked over at this point, so I guess they’re gonna end up in either that lilac princess cut or the neon one with most of the midsection cut out, but I digress.
I remember my Junior prom all too well. Unfortunately. My best friend at the time, Kathleen, was in a mildly serious relationship with this boy so I knew they were going to prom together. That meant I was expected to get a date so we could double date for prom. Thing is, the only guy that asked me I didn’t want to go with. His name was Fred Berry, he had bright red hair & he may or may not have been missing a few teeth. I turned him down. Six times.
I went ahead & purchased a sassy prom dress with the intentions of finding a date. My dress was a spaghetti strap, mermaid cut, lime green number with a mesh cut out at the midriff. Whatever. I weighed 40 pounds less then. It was hot.
Months went by. I asked guy friends of mine. They already had dates. Kathleen attempted to set me up. Nothing worked. One week before prom I still didn’t have a date. I didn’t want to be the third wheel. Looks like I was going to have to do the unthinkable: ask Fred to prom.
He was pumped, of course. He took me to a crappy restaurant & I paid for my own meal. He insisted we get to prom an hour early to take pictures that I later found out he expected me to pay for. He wanted me to dance with him on every single song. He topped the charts as one of my worst dates ever.
I ended up leaving early with Kathleen & her boy toy to go bowling. We had a blast. Perhaps three isn’t a crowd.
Renovations on the Amityville house have officially started. We also have a bee infestation (again), so its like we’re taking one step forward & two steps back.
I’ve spent the majority of my lovely Sunday off stripping pink & white striped wallpaper off the guest bedroom wall & fighting bees in the attic with J-bird & his dad. They’ve mostly used a steamer to get the paper off (we only have one) while I was given the task of ripping it right off with my hands. I have no nails or patience left, but the room is about halfway done. I’m “taking a break”. For “water”. Oh, strike that. No quotes on the water. I actually did get water. But I don’t think doing a blog post is hardly considered a break. The wallpaper is ugly, outdated & messy. I can’t imagine a world where anyone would use pink stripes of any kind on their walls. Then again, I didn’t live here in 1954.
The honey bee infestation started yesterday as I was getting ready for work. Well, it started long before that, but that’s when it got really ugly. Like, I had to army crawl across the floor in my pretty dress to avoid a killer bee ugly. Whatever. I get all panicky around things that can sting me & J-Bird wasn’t home. As of today, we figured out that the bees are entering through our attic & we’ve found about 20 in our house (some dead around the attic door, most half alive, some fully alive). Apparently once they find their way in, they can’t get out. I’m still not sure what we’re going to do about them, I just hope they don’t attack me in my sleep.
If you don’t hear from me in a few days, assume the bees got me.