A bookshelf was left behind by the previous tenants, who were apparently some disreputable characters. There is evidence of either untended or very determined children all over this house in the forms of scribbles on many unpaintable surfaces, and last night as I was planting lavender bushes the neighbor was telling us about previous escapee dogs from our backyard, about drug deals, and about children appearing and being taken away again. Apparently the owner did not even want to rent to people with children again, which is a double-edged sword because if you refuse to rent a five-bedroom in an ungentrified neighborhood to a family, then you are going to get a batch of college students. He liked us on sight, though, which was nice.

Since the bookshelf was abandoned, I decided to take advantage of it, rather than letting it gather dust in the garage. I think it will hold all my cookbooks, plus my Hall & Oates records, WOO. It looked like it had been built-in somewhere previously, since the sides were unpainted and drippy and there were loose screws in its back. Where it had been built into was a mystery, since there is no place for a built-in shelf here.

P. came out to supervise.

“You should leave the edges blank so we can paint those the purple you got to break up all the gold,” he said.

“CHUH,” I replied. “I have TRAINING in COLOR THEORY OK. When I need some math done, I will call you, Mr. Math Degree, oh wait no I will not because I can do calculations in my head faster than you can.”

“Oh no you did not. I just think…”

“THIS IS ART, THIS IS INTERIOR DECORATING.”

“Spray painting everything you own gold is not ‘interior decorating.”

BLASPHEMY!

I live for these arguments.

Before!

Umm…During!

It’s kind of streaky. Two cans did not cover everything, I now see in the light of day. I was so high I missed a whole panel last night and did not even realize it. WOO FUMES. That was a fun five minutes, then the headache, oh god the headache.

I always spend all this time at the hardware store staring at all the metallic spray paint and I come home with the exact same shade of Rustoleum gold EVERY TIME. I think I have a soft spot for this color because A. it is awesome and B. it is the very first color I tagged with as a juvenile delinquent. I was eight years old and I had the nozzle turned backwards and it went RIGHT INTO MY RIGHT EYE. However, I did not cry because, don’t let the spike hair fool you, like, I’m not a bitch.

TODAY I HAVE GOLD BOOGERS. THE END.