princess

Poetic Princess license

The spider count is now three. Three spiders in my house. I can’t sleep knowing they’re about.

It started with the bathtub spider. He’s dead, but he probably had friends.

bathrub spider

 

There was the spider on the stairs. He got away when I flicked on the lights.

House-Spider

 

Then there was the spider on the hallway wall. This one was brave, he stared me down. He’s the reason I didn’t do laundry last week.

hallway spider

I think we need to go away for a week and hire an exterminator to come in and purge the house. My husband seems to think I am over reacting and exaggerating the potential risks associated of a ‘few’ common house spiders.  I think I am painting an accurate picture of our current household situation, but he thinks I am taking poetic license with my risk assessment.

So I thought I would compromise. I suggested we get a panic button in the bathroom so the next time an eight legged assassin emerges from my bathwater I can sound the alarm. Then my husband, who thinks I am exaggerating the risks, can run upstairs and rid me of the beastly thing.

My husband agreed, with one caveat. That I don’t use the alarm when I just want a cup of tea while I bathe.

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Hmmmmm

 

Well, I can’t honestly promise that so I guess I just have learn to live with the arachnid invasion.

 

 

 

 

Why, why maybe wifi

You know, I don’t want to sound like a demanding princess, but something has to be done by someone about the quality of my household wireless services.

Last night I thought, for a change of pace, perhaps I should pack up my laptop and sit in the library while I do my online shopping.

You see, usually I sit in the south wing of the house, in the art room. But the art room has very large windows and I get a  bit of glare on my laptop’s screen that interferes with my ability to peruse the dress selection at Saks Fifth Avenue’s online site.

On the north end of the house, in the library, there is only the one set of patio doors and the patio is superbly shaded. There would be no glare and (I thought) all my problems would be solved.

So I moved, and I sat and sat waiting for the image of a Jill Stuart dress to appear. But it never happened and I was left sitting in a lonely library recliner with unrequited dress dreams, credit card in hand without a dress to pay for.  No internet. No Jill Stuart. By the time I packed up and moved all the way back to the other side of the house the dress had sold out.

saks sold out

Apparently the north end of the house is still a dead zone. The boys tell me that is because the router is in the south wing of the house in the media room, and that since there are 4 walls and a floor between that media room router and my library, the wireless does not have the strength to retrieve images.

I had the cable fellows out to fix this months ago, and they just asked me a whole bunch of confusing questions (what kind of modem do you have, where is the router, how do you turn this on?).

Now what was I supposed to do? Just trust Saks and buy any old size two dress I could find? How am I supposed to keep my wardrobe up to date?

This is a serious problem.

If I didn’t work walking distance from Holt Renfrew this could be a real impediment to maintaining my social status.

It’s not a metaphoric closet.

Last week, for reasons I would rather not get into, my husband and I had a discussion about house insurance.

It turns out he is clueless. Loveable, but clueless.

Our house contents are insured for $75,000. When he dropped that bombshell, and I asked him if we had a special rider for my clothes, he looked at me with complete incomprehension. When he recovered capacity for his speech he became yet more incomprehensible, and said “What, you have about 25 dresses right, at about $150 each? 10 pairs of shoes? How much are shoes?”

Tory Burch. Chloe. Helmut Lang. Kate Spade. Isabel Marant. Proenza Schouler.

                    TORI BURCHCHLOEHELMUTKATE SPADEMARANTPROENZA

These timeless fashion classics live in my closet.

This, my friend, is Burberry. BURBERRY. It was not $150:

BURBERRY

This, this is Vivienne Westwood. Sure, only her red line, but still, not $150:

WESTWOOD

You see, I am cursed by the fact that I have remained the same dress size for 20 years. And generally, classic fashion does not go out of style. Generally, classic fashion remains in my closet. I am helplessly timeless.

darcy on stairs

If we have a fire I guess the boys are all going to be naked for a while.

First World Mental Vacation

Oh, I know what you’re going to say. Yes, I have been away. But let me assure you, that isn’t because my first problems have diminished. Not at all, if anything they have compounded.

Take for instance, problem #1: My job was not allowing me to reach my full potential.

im too pretty

8:30 to 4:30 everyday, in a cubicle, at a computer, managing paperwork and filling in meaningless forms. Running in circles for approvals. It was like living Vaclav Havel’s The Memorandum, but without all the hilarity. So, I quit. I went back to school.

lawyer

After the heady impulsive rebellion driven rush, the reality of the situation kicked in.  I had to write an eloquent resignation and rush around to shop for schools supplies to accommodate the demands of student life.

  • I had to get a new laptop
  • A nice laptop case.
  • I had to get a new router so I had reliable wifi in every corner of the house (it was notoriously spotty in the northeast wing).
  • I needed a new chair for my ‘office’.
  • I needed a reading lamp.
  • I needed more comfy leggings and warm sweaters to keep off the chill as I studied.

Shopping is a lot of work.

ShoppingBags

And then came problem #2: School has not improved in the past two decades. It was like a Jr High nightmare flashback. With god as my witness, I swore I would never parse again.

But I parsed, and bit my lip with every missing oxford comma.

I settled in to spending 3 hours a week in class and several more hours a day in yoga pants sitting at my laptop in my office working through my course readings. The only breaks I got were when I got up, basically whenever I wanted, to make myself a latte or have a hot bath. It was rigorous and exhausting.

That was just to start, my entire second post secondary journey was fraught with peril. But, that’s for another day. Right now, I am late for my manicure.

Why do the righteous suffer?

I hope I can write this blog mashing the keyboard like a leper. My left hand is a stub – wrapped in a wet towel and I SWEAR there is STEAM coming off it.

better arm wrap

How did this happen, you ask?

Well, we entertained last night. We threw a soirée. You know how much I love to give of myself. I slaved all day to make sure the maid got the house clean enough and the caterer got the food right. Honestly. I barely had time for my yoga. Or my manicure. Or my hair appointment.

So, this morning I got up and thought – I deserve some ME time.

I ran a hot bath. Then turned on the TV on the wall at the foot of the tub and put in an episode of Pretty Little Liars.

pretty-little-liars-books

It was lovely, I have to admit. However, all good things come to an end, and I had to get out in the end. So I reached over casually to get my towel, which had slipped from its rung. Rather than find a warm fluffy towel I found metal – hot metal. I scalded my hand on the heated towel rack.

What a way to end my gift to me!

Of course I should be used to the fact that good things don’t last, for me. But I can’t help but wonder in what way I have offended god.

I feel like Job.

JOB

Size 2 Sufferage

Well, honest to goodness, 2013 had better be good to me because the start of it was very frustrating.

I firmly believe that it is important to start a new year right. I know there are people who greet a new year the same way they left the old one but, is that constructive? Can you imagine the karmic repercussions?

So NATURALLY I had to be very careful about how I prepared for my New Year soirée. I flipped through my closet but decided that I couldn’t possibly turn over a new leaf in an old dress. One would THINK that 48 hours is ample time to find a fitting dress. I suppose that may be the case for everyone but me. Always everyone but me. **SIGH**

shopping failure

What a shopping nightmare.

Do you have any idea how hard it is to find a size 2 dress?

I’m sorry that I am small, I’m sorry that I don’t like ice cream, I’m sorry that my carb cravings are benign, I’m sorry that my metabolism is active, but I don’t think that the systematic discrimination against petite women is right.  How can a store possibly justify only having ordered in size 6-12 dresses? Just because those of us outside those ‘externally imposed size boundaries’ are a minority doesn’t justify this fashion discrimination!

I get angry all over again just thinking about it.

The 11th hour is my finest hour however, and Holt Refrew and Donna Karan saved the day.

In 2013 I pray that the hurdles and barriers I experience due to my petiteness become less onerous, and as my New Year’s resolution I pledge that I will hold fast and work tirelessly for myself and other petite women everywhere.


 clothes for women of size 2

I Feel Better Already

Good news everyone! Me and B have a new home.

Now, before you all start checking your inboxes – I would love to have you all over to celebrate my happiness but please be patient as we have purchased a fixer-upper.

fixer upper

I know, I know, money wasn’t the object so why in goodness name would I ever consider buying a home that was less than perfect? It’s not like I’d ever buy clothes at an outlet mall, or buy last year’s technology to save a buck, right?

I haven’t really compromised my principles, B just helped me see the possibilities I could explore in a house I could really put my own stamp on.

For example:

Instead of inheriting a library built to hold the literary travesties of Danielle Steele and Dan Brown…

badbooks

I can design and have built a library worthy of Dostoyevsky and Hemingway.

bookshelf1

Instead of taking over someone’s tired old craft room still smelling of Stampin’ Up and hot glue guns…

organize-craft-room-15[3]

I can create a place for paint and clay and belle arte.

Pierre_Subleyras,_The_artist_studio

Yes, it’s a fixer upper for me. I shall soon enter a world of hiring contractors and choosing hardwood, but I will survive and come out of it a better person with a better house to feel better about.

Second chances, on Second thought

****  MY  DEAREST  FRIENDS,   I  FIND  MYSELF  OVERWHELMED  BY THE  WEIGHT  OF  MY  FIRST  WORLD  BURDEN.     DUE  TO MY  SEVERE  FATIGUE,   TODAY’S  BLOG  POST  IS  A  TRANSCRIPT  OF  THE  PAST  EVENINGS’  CONVERSATION  ****

——————————————————————————————————————–

B: Darcy my love.

Darcy: Yes, darling love of my life.

B: I have been thinking…

Darcy: Of course you have, darling.

B: …about the second house we looked at…

Darcy: Second house? Hmmm…

B: You remember?

Darcy: Ummm…we’ve seen so many…

B: You noted the the unfortunate flecked gold kitchen tile.

Darcy: Gold is so 1983.

B: Of course it is my love. I don’t question your judgement. It would be immediately removed – I wouldn’t have it otherwise. You also rightly condemned the tacky mirrors and glass shelves on each side of the fireplace.

Darcy: Mirrors remind me of Hugh Heffner. I can’t condone that, can I?

B: Your condemnation is justified, my love. Remember yet? You feared that the master bedroom walk in closet would hold your clothes, but was not big enough to also hold your shoes.

Darcy: I must have a place to keep my shoes, should I go barefoot?

B: I would carry you on my shoulders before I allowed such a thing! It had the bonus room with the fireplace and skylights that I suggested you could use as a studio; but you rightly worried that all the windows overlooking the garden just served to restrict the number of paintings you could display at any given time.

Darcy: I need to be surrounded by my own creativity, or I may die.

B: Your creativity sustains me as well, my love, and you will have an art room. You are my work of art come to life. My Mona Lisa…

 

Darcy: You make me blush. Was the house brick?

B: Yes! Do you remember the house?

Darcy: No. But it sounds dreadful.

B: Dreadful is priceless. The listing was reduced; I thought we could take a second look, my love.

Darcy: OH! So now we are shopping in the discount bin (a tear runs down my cheek). I suppose my love was also a bargain?

B: Your love was a heavenly blessing – let me wipe your tears, my love. Don’t think of it as a discount, but as thrift; thrift is a virtue. Virtue for the virtuous. (we share a passionate kiss) And we could take the money we save and spend it on something nice, something sparkly for you, my love. It’s what you deserve.

Darcy: Not bargain sparkly…

B: Never my love – top-of-the-line sparkly. So can we re-visit?

Darcy: Of course, whatever you want, darling, I defer to your manly authority.

B: I love you…

Darcy: I love you so very much…

B: No, I love you more…

Darcy: But I will love you until I die…

B: I will love you from the grave…

Darcy: I love you enough to defy the grave…
B: I love you enough to escape the third circle of hell to find you…
Darcy: And I would love you even from purgatory…
B: Kiss me…
Darcy: Darling…

House Hunters Inconsolable

Oh my. House hunting looks so much simpler on TV.

Here is a run-down of the ‘houses’ we’ve seen:

  1. Big corner house, decor dominated by the keg (?) of Jägermeister, assorted Jägermeister paraphernalia and hentai inspired artwork.
  2. House on a quiet cul de sac, with guest room in the basement down the long narrow hallway past the utility room, conveniently only three steps to the toilet behind a curtain right next to the furnace.
  3. Home in a quiet neighbourhood; comes with security system, which consists of cameras mounted inside each window to monitor activity outside the house, probably in no way connected to the strange wiring throughout the house and the multiple money counting machines in the upstairs office.
  4. Quaint home near river valley trails, filled with love and the wafting odor of jasmine just masking the smell of damp concrete and raw sewage.
  5. Traditional family home with warm interior. Could be even warmer if any of us make a spark accidentally igniting the hardwood floors, wood paneled walls, wood ceiling beams, wooden counters, wooden shelves, wooden sauna…
  6. Spacious home, the sense of space is amplified by the insipid grey linoleum throughout the entire house; stairs, foyer, living room, library, family room, den, kitchen, bathrooms, bedrooms…
  7. Historic heritage home with antique fixtures, including the original chicken coops in the unfinished basement (?)
  8. New home with master bedroom on main floor. Large glass enclosed fire place in wall, conveniently open on both sides and placed between the living room and master bedroom – exceptional home for entertaining guests!

I’ve had to severely downgrade my expectations and opinion of humanity in general. Seriously. These aren’t even POOR people’s homes. These people have enough money to buy some taste, or hire someone to have some on their behalf.

Tainted Love

B and I took a break from our simple lives for a well deserved celebration. It was the anniversary of our second date.

Isn’t that sweet?

We don’t celebrate the first date because it was just confusing and awkward.

It is very unfortunate that such a beautiful day of remembrance has to fall on Halloween weekend though. It is so difficult to be romantic watching a drunk guy in a Super Mario costume pee on the bumper of the pub-crawl bus. The incident has left me scarred and probably ruined the anniversary for me forever. Now when I think of B and I’s first kiss the image will be tainted.

I don’t know how I managed to eat my Bananas Foster. I am stronger than I give myself credit for.