061

March 20, 2008 :: Spring Outfitting. U/O dressing room, Ponce de Leon.

The sun is blazingly, gloriously out, and oh, it's time to shop. Fortunately, I also have the tiniest bit of expendable income right now. It's as if the planets have suddenly aligned for the first time in months. I need spring clothes, gardening tools, paint, truck tires, a new glasses prescription, lighting fixtures, and table legs for two random, legless tables (how I end up with such things is beyond me, but ask, and IKEA shall deliver a solution.) I also need a plumber, as something related to the bizarre craftsmanship the previous owners of my house practiced exploded like a geyser under my kitchen sink last night. This would ordinarily darken my mood enough to have Mr. Rainey asking "are you ok?" ten times as I seethe semi-audibly about how people who think they can do home repairs but cannot shouldn't be allowed to own homes (or, more accurately, hide their laziness, then sell said home to me). But today, I am not being that mean and irrational. Instead, I'm getting out a pipe wrench and hoping for the best.

I'm looking down the barrel of a particularly active weekend--and typing it out here for the shame value in case it gets to be Saturday morning and I decide it's ok to watch the Food Network for 6 hours instead of digging in the yard. The internet serves as my witness. My intentions are good, my work gloves are at the ready, and my list is damn long. It's ON.

I think it's the sun.