The trend of domesticity that I�ve developed in my ongoing unemployment led me to an inadvisable course of action the other day. You see, while cleaning out my closet, I came across a box that contained potpourri, a scented candle, and a canister of �home fragrance�. And yes, my longtime readers, I do mean that box.
Why I never threw that shit away after it napalmed the office with its deathly stench, driving away all living creatures for miles around and killing off eighty percent of my functioning brain cells on contact, I�ll never be able to explain. Probably I just held onto it because it was a gift, and it had clearly cost a bit of money, and because Dolly was crazy and might have put a hex on me if she�d ever found out. Anyway, I dug out the potpourri, and thinking to myself that the bathroom looked a little drab and could use some color, I had the brilliant notion that time may have caused the cloying malodor to dissipate to a point where I could take advantage of the Pier 1-ey goodness of smelly, dried leaves and shit.
I�m happy to report that over the past two years, the smell really has faded quite a bit. Now, instead of smelling like a venus flytrap on recombinant bovine growth hormones, it smells kind of like...grandma sweater. You know, that overly-perfumed but benign fragrance that grandma sweaters come to have after they�ve been worn for a while? That�s it. I�m not getting rid of it, though. I don�t care if my bathroom smells like the activity center of a retirement village, I went through way too much to arrange that shit, and it�s staying. I mean, nobody warned me that the potpourri actually comes in two separate sections!
See, I don�t know if you knew this or not, but when Pier 1 sells potpourri, they evidently have it separated out in such a way that the guts of it�the shavings and petals and dried whatevers�are in one pouch, while all the big, showy, chunky items are in a different one. I did not know this. I just tore right into the thing like it was the last bag of Doritos in Dodge City, and so a million little cedar shavings and dried berries and other grandma sweatery detritus just dumped out all over my bathroom floor. I worry that my Gay Card will be revoked for my absolute ignorance about something as basic as potpourri, but I was taken completely unawares by this �dual pouch� strategy.
Anyway, I managed to clean it all up and arrange it in this old basket that I�d been using to store old bits of electronica that I�d never use again. (Like, a walkman? What�s that?) And it looks pretty good, if I do say so myself! Of course, my bathroom smells like it�s being haunted by the evil spirit of a Japanese flower garden, but at least it looks kind of pretty. It�s just sad that you have to hold your nose when you go in, even if nobody�s been in there ahead of you.
The other newsworthy bit of information is that I�ll be taking a trip next week. I sort of mentioned this before, but none of the specifics, so for those of you playing the home game? Here�s the score: my mother had surgery this week, and I�ll be going to stay with her for a week while she recuperates. Now, my mother and I have gone through this before, no more than about three and a half years ago, but back then she was living in my hometown still, and not some reject, backwater, podunk, shitbox, Mayberry-ass town in the middle of nowhere in some boring state nobody�s ever heard of. I mean, I love my mother, but I have a reputation to uphold, people!
Okay, I�m kidding with that. I�m going because I love my mom and want to make sure she�s okay, but I won�t know anybody else in town, and I won�t be able to go anywhere or do anything, and I just have this horrible feeling that after three or four days of just the two of us trapped inside her home together, her incapacitated and me forced to wait on her hand and foot, it�s going to turn into What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? or something. She�ll be all drugged up and confined, and I�ll be running around with my powdered wig and my butcher knife, cooking up rat and murdering the cleaning lady, and she�ll be writing �HELP� in lipstick on the upstairs window, and I�ll chain her to the radiator, and when the cops come and say they�re responding to a call from a neighbor, I�ll tell them that my mother is �out�, and which neighbor was it exactly? And then when they tell me, I�ll snarl something inaudible and glare really obviously in the direction of said neighbor, but the cops won�t notice, and then they�ll leave.
Good thing my sister is coming to take over for me on Saturday.
Someone Got Here By Searching For: ruin someone�s credit I�m Watching: The O.C.. Whatever. And: Passions You know, I thought Beth was really irritating and useless right up until she started plotting to kill Sheridan, and now I think she�s really funny and kind of awesome. Luis, however, needs to put a sock in it, pronto, and lay off Martin and Catherine.