We Also Have Pay-What-You-Weigh Falafel, But Only When Chickpea Delivers

I spent most of this afternoon trying to get my apartment into some sort of presentable shape. I’ve been living like a Joad for these past few months, with boxes and piles of clothing around, and stacks of mail peeking out from various points in the piles. I’ve managed to pay my bills and do my dishes, but that’s about it. For one thing, my apartment is super small. No, smaller than than that. Smaller. For another, well, I’m lazy, and when I’m feeling energetic, I’d rather go out than build shelves.

But no more! I finally assembled the top of my desk today. It’s this shelving unit that I got from Ikea, which is where all of my furniture comes from, unless my Dad built it. (This means that my furniture is either made of paper, and ready to disintegrate if sneezed upon, or made of ancient redwoods, and built to withstand the Rapture.) Anyway, I finished building my paper desk, and then I hung a few things on the walls, including this little paratrooper dude I bought in Normandy, who is now dangling from the corner of the little bump-out that separates my kitchen from the rest of the apartment. I also put out my cows, which are purple and orange, and also relics of the trip to France. (These cows got me held up in Customs for half an hour while various officials tried to figure out what the hell they were, and then for twenty minutes beyond that, while they laughed at me in French.)

I also put out my maracas, and a couple vases, and tin picture of Jeebus (not to be confused with Jesus, who is very dignified, and never ever appears on tin), and a couple of ladybug candles and my cuckoo clock. All this, together with vacuuming and dusting and rearranging books and CDs, took about four hours, and when I was done, I was pretty satisfied with myself. I am so not lazy! I am productive! Even on a Sunday! Also, my home is lovely, and well-appointed.

Then I realized: What with all the crap hanging from the walls and such, I’ve basically decorated my apartment as the Ground Round, by way of Hot Topic.

I need my sister to come visit me and put her Art degree to good use, before I get out of control.

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6 thoughts on “We Also Have Pay-What-You-Weigh Falafel, But Only When Chickpea Delivers

  1. Eric: Joad is the name of the family around which Grapes of Wrath was written. Did you sleep through American Lit too? Jenny didn’t. Jenny sat up front and paid rapt attention. Bet she still knows all the characters by heart and instantly saw the parallel between Grapes of Wrath and National Lampoon Vacation. Or maybe not.

  2. I’m not sure how much help I can be, seeing as how I gave you the tin picture of Jeebus and encouraged you to buy your florescent cows. But I’m always looking for another way to justify that expensive education of mine!

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