Sunday, July 26, 2009

Ephemera, Etc...

I've been sorting through the piles of paper that tend to accumulate wherever I go, and have thrown wads of it into the recycling bin at my parents' house. Among the ephemera I've encountered are concert tickets from a couple of years ago (Martin Sexton at the House of Blues), hand-written notes from my sister and brother-in-law, and house plans I've squirreled away in the unlikeliest places.

The accordion folder housing my electronics warranties was the best place to store the plans for a minimalist glass and stone house. I do a lot of design-work at night, after the Benadryl/Tylenol PM cocktail has kicked in but before I fall asleep.

Granted, not all of the flotsam and jetsam from the past few months has been tossed in the rubbish bin. The handwritten notes are squirreled away once more, this time with the others I keep in various old stationary boxes that were too retro-cool to throw away (gold and black-lacquer finish paper!) and I saved the concert tickets for potential integration into a collage in the future.

I've put a couple of pairs of shoes on the Garage Sale Pile O Doom in the family room. I intend to box up all that detritus with the boxes left from the last time I moved. I've discovered a whole trove of cleaning products in our garage that once belonged to me (but were used by my former house-keeper almost exclusively), and my mom informs me that there are spices and food-stuffs in the cabinets and pantry here, donated to the communal living space after I moved in.

I failed to cook with them, while here, however.

I have sorted through the pens in my two writing-utensil holders and discarded those that no longer have ink, lead, or erasers, or that write poorly, because I'm obsessed with how pens feel against the paper when I write. If there's too much snagging of the paper fibers, the deal's off.

I also tossed the black-market imitation Sharpie markers I unwittingly bought at a midnight street fair. They probably took 10 years off my life.

Don't buy permanent markers at midnight street fairs. Or DVDs.

The books I bought during my tenure as the resident unemployed offspring in the house filled one box, and I have yet to find something in which to put the other 11 remaining.

I made a list today of things I need to purchase before my move, and it's not that long, but it won't be cheap. The Container Store should fall to its knees in worship at the mere thought of my imminent arrival.

I get to pick up the keys to the apartment Friday at lunch. I'll go back Friday night to measure the windows in the living room and bedroom so I can buy the appropriate curtain rods. Curtains are something I don't have to worry about: I have them in spades.

The curtains in my room at my parents' house are left from my college apartment. My mom offered to let me take them with me, since they technically belong to me. They're attractive curtains, don't get me wrong, they're just not what I want in my apartment. The curtains that will hang in my apartment in Dallas are higher quality, and longer to boot! I need to buy some fringe to go along the bottom of the curtains in my living room, though.

Either that or new curtains.

We'll see which option wins out for the O.C.D.esigner.

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