I spent a good portion of the day shopping with my mom for a table/desk for my room. But I'm picky. I want an antique, or something rustic, with a story...or one that would like to share many stories with me. It's not like shoes, that I can buy dozens and not feel guilt because I have this insatiable need for beautiful things on my feet, but it's an actual piece of furniture, something that will be with me for my whole life. And this ain't gon' be cheap neither.
Another reason I'm being so fickle is because this desk will hold my new laptop t(which I still need to name, though I have decided it's no longer androgynous, ---get out the pink, it's a girl!) is because I want to be a writer. A desk is like a canvas to an artist, a car to a mechanic, a hoagie roll for a Subway employee. And I know just what I want it to look like.
I want an antique table, about 40" (is " inches or cms? Because clearly I want inches.) long, painted black, then red, then distressed so the black shows through. With three drawers. And I want one of those old wooden school chairs, painted olive green. And atop my desk, next to my darling laptop, I want a vase with flowers in it. And I've given this some serious thought. I originally wanted fresh flowers in the vase, but then I remembered that I am sort of an ace-of-clutz and that I would more than likely knock over the vase of water and flowers onto my laptop. So I can't do the fresh flower thing. However, my 40% discount at my Crap Store will allow just the right price for some nice silk flower knockoffs. And I want a real, authentic pencil holder. I don't normally use pencils and I'm sure since I'm done with math (forever!) I never will again. I don't know about all of you, but I am a big fan of crossing out mistakes in pen and leaving them. I am so over the eraser. Nothing like a big blob of blank ink to scream professional!
And in the drawers I want my poetry journals on one side, and yellow paper on another side. I love yellow paper with the lines. I think it's called legal paper. Somehow I though illegal paper would be more of an andrenaline rush, but something about yellow paper is so nontraditional that it keeps me hooked. I actually just wrote an entire paragraph on why I love yellow paper. Just another reason I love the freedom provided to me by my inernet server. Thanks AOL. Just, thanks.
I was also thinking about getting a nice little lamp to put on top. Not too intrusive like Hitler or anything.
But alas, no such luck on the desk hunt today. I shall venture out again tomorrow, ready to whip out my mini tape measurer (and more) for any promising piece of furniture (or woodworking man).
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That was Act I of the day. Act II followed immediately when I literally stepped foot into work tonight.
As soon as I walked in the door, ARMAGEDDON!
And Ben Affleck was nowhere in sight!
The power went out. Customers scrambled like suicidal eggs. 'Twas a craft-tastic frenzy. Even the "pure moods for craft lovers" elevator music turned off. Thank Lawd the time clock was still intact, there's no way I was not gon' get paid to stand around in the dark.
It was out for an hour. All but one of our registers were down. We took care of the five customers that were actually in the store, saw them out and then closed the doors until the power came back on.
During all of this, as all of the Michaels employees stood around scratching their asses waiting for Electric People to show up, a man pried open our doors and walked in like everything was normal. Like the lights weren't out. Like he didn't have to pry our doors open. And when he walked in, he began heading toward the craft punch section. I wanted to craft punch him in the nose. My boss walked over to him and told him politely that we were temporarily closed due to a power outage and the man, still silent, pried open the doors and left. Without saying one word. I didn't know Mr. Magoo was into crafts. I could see how he'd be a really great knitter. KNOT. (hahahahahahahahahah! my brilliance sometimes suprises even me and I'm my biggest fan!)
After an hour the lights slowly faded back on and Kenny GORLICK (aka Kenny G) continued blowing into that godforsaken instrument for another round of Crafters of the World Rejoice. For the rest of the night, the craft store was a somber place. All the employees felt disoriented and were angered that they didn't get to go home (more than likely to a clean, well lighted place) and all the customers were ruder than usual, even with the gazillion percent off of the reindeer poop in aisles 32B- 35A. What more do they want?
I even carried a 6 foot fake plant through the store for a couple. AND THEY DIDN'T EVEN BUY IT. I hope they drive all the way home and walk into their empty little house and realize that what it needs is a bohemeth synthetic plant in the center of the room. ZING! GRINCH YOU!
I've spread enough cheer for one night.
G'night Journal.
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