I should definitely not be blogging right now.
I am sick with the flu, just chugged Nyquil,
and feel PMS rage; biologically implausible
though the case may be.
Worst of all,
I feel bad about my doors.
They’re hollow and papery cheap,
which is…whatever,
not at all like being homeless
or having your home
blown up in Syria.
But they don’t close properly.
Don’t fit doorways.
You have to smash them shut,
and even
then there is unwanted space at the top
where light comes through.
Noisy, dys-functional eyesores
constantly remind me they
were placed here carelessly,
maybe to replace ones violence ruined.
I feel bad about my doors.
Some of them open up into each other.
We will never understand
how a design detail so important
could be overlooked.
And it’s precisely such odd defects
which compel me to reference this place
again and again in fixerupper posts as quirky.
Quirky can be sexy.
Jennifer Lawrence in American Hustle, for example.
Totally quirksexy. Nothing like my doors.
When I was young I thought
Dennis Miller was a quirky cuteasaurus.
I feel bad about my doors.
They have no game or mullet-ous quirk.
Also the knobs.
Sweet cozy Moses, the nobs are hideous.
The brassiness bothered this aesthete
so much she slathered them with
antique silver rub-n-buff
a year ago.
(thank God for ME)
Now, not only do they impart
an awful von awful hand-feel, they are mottled
and forlorntastically peely too because…
hayull no, I did not sand!
Do you have time to prep
your brasstardly cheapo knobs
for rub-n-buff?
We needed a kitchen
for corn’s sake.
There was no time.
But the doors.
(I have obliterated 5 tissues since typing the first word.)
Oh the doors. It’s day 5, and
I’m so sick of being sick.
I’m sick of staring at
sickly paper doors
that suck.
I feel bad that we have already
gone over our
original reno budget by 20%.
Do you have something at home
about which you are obsessing in spite of
the fact you are a highly evolved human
who practices mindfulness and believes
wholeheartily that Black, Brown, and Colorful
Lives do not just matter, but are shining
miraculous prisms of light, worthy of honor
and love and tender care?
Is there trivial meaningless material
fluffity schtuff that pesters you in your environment
despite your integrity, soulful nature
and long list of reasons to sing Hallelujah, amen?
Because I feel bad that I feel bad
about my doors.
I mean, they’re doors.
RantingTalking
to you just now about them
has made me feel a little bit
better and giggly even.
Won’t it be great someday to replace them!?!
Peace to you right where you are.
~michele
Not only can I completely understand your door issues but also know it is equally frustrating when a girl just doesn't feel good. Hang in there Fixer-Upper Soldier and I am hoping you will be feeling better in no time. Sending you chicken soup, new door thoughts, and lots of get well hugs.
what a mess i am! thanks for the love. 🙂
Feeling you on the doors. We are ever so slooooooowly fixing our fixer upper circa 1972. My pain is our bathrooms as they are functional but hideous. Oh and every light switch in this house is crooked. Gaaaaa! Feel better. 🙂
the light switch thing! dang. it's an ocd nightmare! thanks.
Darn doors! I've been dealing with my own issues in this neck of the woods so I empathize ……. I will usually allow a short pity party and then realize my negativity or throwing in the towel really isn't an option. If it doesn't kill you it makes you stronger, yes? Feel better soon;)
i hadn't thought of this as a pity party but i guess that's what it is. your antidote sounds mature and controlled whereas i just irreverently exploit the bejeebers out of my pity parties if there's any chance it'll make good copy!!