in my room

confession: i've lived in my own place now for nine months and just this week started to decorate my bedroom. sometimes i wonder if i am missing that one gene (just one?) that all other girls seem to have. what shall we call it? the nesting gene? the decorating gene? the obsessive need to make all surroundings aesthetically pleasing to one's self gene? i can give a great illustration of this gene at its best...this week at work, a man came to the bar and sat down, ordered a glass of wine and indicated that he was waiting for someone. a few minutes later his date took the seat next to him and immediately complained that the bar was too high (or the stools too low. she couldn't decide and it seemed to perplex her extremely that she couldn't figure out which had wronged her - the bar or the stool) i just smiled and said we just thought it was best to shorten the distance between the glass and the mouth. her date thought i was funny. she semi frantically looked around for a more suitable seating arrangement and chose a table right behind the bar. before she could settle, i watched as she switched the candle on her table with the one on a neighboring table (poor little tea light just wasn't up to par) and only then did she finally sit down and start perusing the wine list.

it may be another nine months before i find a bookshelf or two for my overflowing stacks of books lining my walls but at least i now have something hanging in my bedroom...

...R...