Ruffled

Getting ready for work this morning, I put on a shirt (blouse? shirt?) that had a ruffle ruffling the wrong way. Note to self: take the time to iron the paltry amount of acceptable clothing you own (can you iron ruffles?). Short on time, and without the option of another outfit, I run into our laundry closet and look for that fancy starch stuff. Maybe I can spray-freeze it into place. But we don’t have the fancy starch stuff.

Moping back to my bathroom to glare at my reflection, I look down and notice a bottle of hairspray with a spotlight shining down on it and the angels singing its glory. Hmm….

:: spritz spritz. spritz spritz ::

I mean it’s basically the same thing, right? Holds hair in place… how much different is a ruffle, really?

Different. Very different. I am heading to work this morning with an awry ruffle sticking straight out instead of flopped over to the wrong side. When I turn sideways it pokes out of my chest kind of like a dorsal fin. Only on the front. Facing forward, I look at the fly-aways sticking out defiantly on the top of my head. Do your job SOMEWHERE, ultra-strong hairspray. IS IT TOO MUCH TO ASK?

Giving up on the complete disaster before my eyes, I grab my laptop, throw it into a canvas bag entirely unsuitable for protecting such a precious piece of machinery (seeing as it’s, oh, I don’t know, my livelihood). I mentally apologize to my Mac as it clunks against the corner of the wall as I run out the door, and I notice approximately two feet of power cord dangling out of my bag as I head for my car.

I need to take a class on how to be a put-together person. For real.

Seeing Red

Today is your lucky day, folks.

So waaaaaayyyy back in August, I had a little meltdown about my room and promised to put up pictures once I’d salvaged as much as I could. SIX MONTHS LATER, I am finally making The Room Post. Hello, my name is Josie and I have a problem with procrastination.

So, as you are about to see, my room is still very, very red. But it’s grown on me. Not that I’ll ever do it again. But, for now, it suits me. So, if you will, please follow me to The Red Room.

Behold:
The Dressing Room
(This is where I stand in the morning and stare in disgust at the dearth of adorable clothing and plethora of empty hangers. Yes, that is a cat apartment in the back. George needs his own classy, carpeted place, too)

The Library:
(Any potentially perceived inappropriate innuendos mounted on my walls are always gifts from none other than my dear friend and co-2601-dweller, Leisel)

The Boudoir:
(And the comforter that started it all. Oh, and don’t let the dog bed fool you. Mia worms her way under my organic, pin-tucked covers every night, the spoiled, manipulative cuddle-whore.)

The Armoire:
(Stuffed to the gills with more sorority t-shirts than I ever remember purchasing– is anyone else familiar with this phenomenon?)

The Art Gallery:
(The only damn poppies you will find in this entire room.)

I hope you enjoyed your visit. Please come by and visit sometime… around October 2010…bring some white Kilz primer and get ready to paint it all back with me.

It’ll be a party, promise.