:: The Adventures of Charmin ::

:: Thursday, August 2 ::

I can't sleep tonight so I made a conscious decision to get up, have a drink, not a snack, and to write something. we'll see what happens. I want to live my life exerting my free will from now on, not a constant mindless frce of habit. Habits that are bad can be remolded. I remold them now by documenting this life. I went surfing yesterday. Not that you could really call it surfing. I mean, I can't pop up from laying position to standing on the ground, much less a moving piece of foam. I think from now on I will boogie board until my skill level goes up. I mean just timing the wave takes a little practice. Also being on the right position of the board, also paddling! its kinda a lot to do for someone so outta shape as me. But believe me someday I will surf. Until then I will go into the surf and boogie board. I need a westuit though. and some fins. I totally love the girls that I've been hanging with too. THey fucking crack me up. They were talking about the coochies at lunch. They would probably hate that I said coochie. Tea likes to say vagina, and words with hard consonants. Coochie would probably sound too cute for her. Al demonstrated the kind of labia she liked on her arm. Tea likes really dark and almost purple labia of black women. How would you know I ask her? I;ve watched a lot of porn she said, These girls aren't gay. They shock me though with what they say and do. I think that I haven't really hung out with straight girls enough recently to realize how sexual they sometimes are with each other. I think I have been so afraid of giving straight girls the wrong idea, that I have been too careful and missed out on some totally awesome and natural straight girl affection. I freaking love it. I freaking love them. But I wussed out in explaining my own fat pussy and why I am a perfect lesbian. I should have told them that I have nicely shaped labia, but my whole pelvis is tilted. Just a little bit out. And my lips are fat. You cn grab hold of them. They have some heft. On top of a bony mound with a layer of cushion are my super soft, not too rogue pubes that I let grow. They don't grow halfway down my legs or nothing. They grow in a perfect little triangle. So why does this make me a perfect lesbian? Well because without penetrting you, I can hump your clit with my tilted fat pussy and hit it just right, and make you come. Well, honestly I don't have a perfect track record, but it's better then the baseball batting averages. anyway, I don't mean to be perverse. In fact I am the opposite. I had the perfect opportunity to explain my freak of nature (but in good way pussy) and I didn't do it. I'm a fucking wuss. today I am super tan on my face. I have a sore spot on my cheek from where my board hit me once. I have a random bruise on my arm. BUt I am freaking happy. And my skin feels really soft. I dunno if its the salt water or what. I also put the last fence posts in in the back yard. At work I did inventory all day. i think I might be ready for bed...

:: Charmin 8/02/2012 03:01:00 AM [+] ::
...

Last night was the best night I had in forever. Got real nice and drunk and went dancing with three beautiful ladies. SO fun I'm sore today. I could go on but I will sum it up with they gave me a picture strip they took in the photo booth. THey all are flashing me their tits. FUCK YEAH! I had to go and be so dumb as to say, I'll put it in my boob photoalbum. Tea said it pissed her off that I would say I will just put it with all the other boob photos I have. "I don't show my tits for just anyone. This is a special photo and you are just going to lump it in with all the others like it isn't special?" I never meant to make her feel that way. SHe is special. I can't stop thinking about her. I know that she will never cheat on her boyfriend. BUt I also know, that she fucking loves me. When she walks into the room and she sees me, and there is no one else in the room... She brings her hands high and centered above her, and then with her two pointer fingers she commands the air around her into a heart. A heart meant just for me. Ok, she only did it the once. But it was tonight. And her smile said it all. Oh lovely little lady. She love me too. and even though I shared a queen size bed with her, I was a perfect gentlemen and never touched her inappropriatley. In fact, if I were to take an unbiased look, I would have to say that those straight girls were touching each other a whole fuck of a lot. I mean jesus fuck what is a poor old dyke to do, but look away? Look away it is just too pretty to watch. Oh, but I do appreciate you (straigt and in relationships) hotties to come out with me, get drunk, and shake your asses! Fuck almighty. On the dance floor is where I have to get my fill. Its ok on the dance floor as long as it keeps mving. SO FUN. You guys are the best dancers. Tea yowsa. My fav. Jita rubbin it the best. And pretzel, moves outrages! Its kinda intimidating. PRestzel you had the first girl after you last night for sure! She wanted your bod. She was kinda hot herself. on another note, my bathrobe smells like her. Smells pretty fucking good actually. Better then me. I can't help but think of her when I smell this. and I had been doing pretty good with that these last 24 hours. well not good but better. anyway, have had like 4 hours sleep, and its somehoe getting late again. I wish I could sleep early. fuckin insomnia.

:: Charmin 7/21/2012 01:44:00 AM [+] ::
...

today I went through my closet. Looking at myself in the mirror. Breathing doing mediation and exercise. Trying on clothes. Smoking, now finally drinking. I tried on potential outfits for this coming thursday's adventure. I decided to try on my dad's tuxedo. To my surprise the pants fit. Of course, I don't think that I ever tried them on. At least I hope not. Because also much to my surprise there was a big fucking cum stain right on the fly. I was so damn grossed out. How the fuck do you get 7+ year cum stains out of a tuxedo? He's been dead since 2005. That might be the last of his DNA on the planet, except for the DNA that runs throug his offspring that is. Anyway, am not quite sure if I need to dry clean that or if can just throw those pants n the washer. because I want to wear them thursday. they seem to be lucky.

:: Charmin 7/17/2012 09:17:00 PM [+] ::
...

im an aunt. twice over. that's new. its been about 2 years now. a little girl who lives too far away, and a boy who I nannied from 3months to 6 months. i would support his weight on my belly and carry him around. or give him a neck pillow and let him recline on my lap. If he got fussy I would sing to him. Sometimes I would set him up in his bumbo and play concerts for him. I must have sang to him about 2000 times. I dunno. Mostly the abc's (because I want him to be smart), but also this song I made up... anyway, my voice is ingrained into him. I have been brainwashing him with my songs for him to love me since birth. and he does. That is evident and it warms me like nothing else. and now that he is two and a half, he amazes me at how smart he is. he asks questions like "would you like to go with me to the air and space museum to look at airplanes?" Is that not fucking smart? He is. and i can't wait to see my neice more. They are moving closer!

:: Charmin 7/17/2012 01:39:00 AM [+] ::
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i'm working as a chef. we were always too busy fucking, and our relationship was so brief that I bet you don't even know I can fucking cook. So yeah. I started about a year ago. and I tried to leave many times, but I never found anything better. not close to home anyway. so now I am kitchen manager and sous chef. I don't know how to manage people. I've always been one of the peons. anyway. have much to learn in that department.

:: Charmin 7/17/2012 01:29:00 AM [+] ::
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I started a t shirt company. that is another thing that has changed since I last checked in. it has funny and obsene shit. I also have a whole serious of charmin is my fav shirts that didn;t seem to sell too well. funny shit though. I liked the charmin is my fav underware the best. I do have one shirt that seems to counter the previous post I made. It has to do with God and the Devil, and I said before that I do not believe in religion. I do believe in the light and the dark though. I feel that God is often referred to instead of the light. At first by people with an agenda, and then by the masses. So call it what you like, I beleive in the light. anyway... I just needed to clarify. religion bad, higher power evident.

:: Charmin 7/17/2012 01:24:00 AM [+] ::
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i don't believe in religion anymore. I think I have faith in a lot of things, but I think all religious people are crazy, lazy, or easily manipulted. That is new since I last checked in. Crazy because some people alter the truth to fit their religion. Lazy because some people are too lazy to find the truth behind the religion they have been taught since childhood, or easily manipulated into thinking that even questioning it is blasphemous and therefore against the religion they are practicing. I probably only say this because I just watched Zeitgeist: the movie, and I am a little angry right now. About Religion, and also about a lot of things. anger permiates me until I get that liquor to warm the frozen vertebrae inmy back and and on up into my brain. warm my brain oh amber liquiud. make me forget. that and the weed make my life bearable for 15 to 20 minutes at a time. but i;ll take it. I;ll take it over the anger ( a stage come to after a long period of heartbrache) My heart is broken. a little. The one piece that she hadn;t already busted to shit finally gave way to one last skanky ho manuvere thshe pulled just a mere four days after moving out of my house. broken, now jagged and dangerous.

:: Charmin 7/17/2012 01:15:00 AM [+] ::
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yes. I live with my mother. I am a talented designer/builder etc etc. and I have nothing but a thirst for whisky and I live with my mother. That's new since I last checked in. Its a long freakin story... but i definately am on the low side of things. and I got really fat. I was always kinda full flavored if you know what i mean. Bunt now I am a cigar. a fat one. jesus. I sound so loserly. I swear. I am not. I know this. and I will return to my former glory and once again become the person that has the most fun on the entire planet. Someday. someday soon. Because I am all of a sudden fucking 38 years old. What the fuck? How did that happen? i was twenty somethng a minute ago. See now I really sound like an old person. all we old people can talk about is how fucking old we are, and how fucking fast it went. I wiil stop before it goes further after I just add that the most astounding thing was I was warned with this: Someday you will be in my shoes wondering where the time went. And you don't believe me just like I didn't believe the person who sais those words to me. But it happens I guess to everyone. But for me it was just now. 38. figured I would start me memoirs after I had done something important. Im realizing now that I probably never will. And I should get all this shit down and outta my head before I forget. Like all the good things in my life. I only remember the bitter. and then facebook gives me my daily wisdon. Holding on the anger is like drinking poisen and expecting the other person to die. It was buddhist or something. so fucking true. My only question is why aren't I dead. my other question is, do bloggers do this because they think they are important, or because they are lonely? For me I think it is a little of both.

:: Charmin 7/17/2012 12:57:00 AM [+] ::
...

she had just gone down there, so I know that she couldn't of been alseep. But she was already hooked up to the breathing machine. and she had to unhook herself to ask me what I had said. Did you move my amp? I just put the trunk around the corner. "yeah, but did you pickup my amp." "well, I wanted to move the tv and tidy up the living room, and I just put the trunk arounnd the corner. But then you picked up my heavy amp and set it on top. I just moved the trunk. Just fucking say you won't do it again, and stop making excuses, jesus christ. And where the fuck is the catnip? oh and if you want my things out of the living room, just put it in my room, don't go re-arranging my shit." I just put it around the corner. I fucking left and on the way feet were stomped and curse words flung. Just so mad. She was being nice. But moving my shit around trying to fucking tidy up after me is one thing. Lifting a very heavy and delicate amplifier on a flimsy trunk when you are a sixty five year old religious crazy lady is a fucking whole other thing. fuck mom. im sorry I fucking cuss so much in front of you but you make me fucking crazy sometimes.

:: Charmin 7/17/2012 12:40:00 AM [+] ::
...

She's like a child being scolded. Making excuses rather then owning up to them. It frustrates me and I grow angrier then I should be. I end up yelling. Later I cuss like I have turrets and kick the fucking cat nip and spill ot all over the floor. Later I spill my weed in another fit all over the bathroom floor. It was enough that I could not just sweep it away. I had to pick it up. I wonder if my next bowl will have fallen pubes, or random hair trimmings. Most definately cat hair. all of it. it angrs me. spillingmy weed. excuses my own anger angers me more. i put my hand through the fucking wall. I kick I cuss. I scare the pets. I am damaged and my only one remaining defense =mechansin is this anger. it protects me but isolates me only those people who have no history with me are safe. You who have wronged me, and even many innocent bystanders are not. and for that I am sorry. my anger effects you. and to that I say. Try not to fucking make me mad. for both of our sakes.

:: Charmin 7/17/2012 12:30:00 AM [+] ::
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Was it just last year that I posted last? I feel like this blog was given up on so long ago. It was the first time that she left me that this blog was started. and now it the second time that she left me that I start it again. I am going to rename this epic the That ________ called Sarah. Every chapter will have the blank filled in with a word. One will be disease. another joy. haven't thought of the rest of the chapter titles of this book. This blog will be where I work it out.. where you can maybe shape the format. But always the story is the same. Always it is about her. or trying to to forget her. This book is the biggest gift I could ever give to her, and the biggest weapon I could ever assualt her with.

:: Charmin 7/17/2012 12:23:00 AM [+] ::
...

so I threw my full glass on wine into the yard. I was so angry, and it seemed like a fitting gesture to show anger. But what I did not know before yesterday is that when you throw a full glass, the liquid inside gets all over you. Now, I took a full fucking windup and threw it like I was back in my softball days. I am sure that if I just pushed it or tossed it, I could have saved myself the wet shirt. and I say that I did not know this full throw would leave to wet shirt before yesterday, because yesterday I threw a full fucking mug of coffee, and I got even wetter then I did tonight with the glass of wine. But yesterday, I was willing to think that the wet shirt was a fluke. Not that two times is really a good a control group number, but I am willing to hypothesize that you will get a wet shirt every time with the full windup. So in conclusion, I would suggest not throwing your full drink. Drink it first and then throw it like the greeks do at their weddings. Or use more of a dart throwing action. Or refrain. Or maybe underhand toss it. Or refrain since the underhand toss is not really that intimidating or in the moment. see I try to tell you the non crazy thing to do.

:: Charmin 3/11/2011 10:52:00 PM [+] ::
...

I feel like the conductor of crazy train, and now it's my job to yell all aboard. But who would I be kidding. I'm just talking to my self. Not so much as usual, but now that I have the chance, I have to say it feels so good. I kicked her the fuck out tonight. And it was not usual. Usually I only gather the courage, after a night of drinking. Which is not fair, because I know that 9 times out of 10 she will have no recollection of the events that I so definitively pronounce. And I am sure that in the morning, I will feel my usual guilt. and swear that I do love her, and that I am happy, and that we do belong together, and that she should come home.
but tonight, I am going to pretend like this breakup will finally stick.

and maybe I will be free. Perhaps, I am on the crazy train, and I only have the one way ticket to ride. But i am really excited for the first time in years.

I don't even want to text her hurtful things. I did briefly want to tell her to her face that the naked sand sculpture that I sculpted during our conversation before she left for new york was not her. I refrained. That was hurtful, and I am so in awe of myself that I am refraining even more from the hurt, by not texting how good I feel right now to be done with her.

today, was a day of fucked up shit, to say the least.

I cannot possible go into details right now, because not wanting to talk any more about the issues at hand was a huge mitigating factor in me telling her to get the fuck out. someday, if I keep to this journal, I will tell you.

and I hope that I do. This journal is somehow, graphic evidence of my happiness. when I am happy I tend to write more. When I am sad and pathetic, I tend to beat myself up over the sad pathetic ramblings, and I shy away from putting them into words.

this journal, or the lack there of, is totally symbolic of how unhappy I am. and the round figure in the mirror is just more fucking fat symbolism of how fucking unhappy i've become.

fuck me a thousand times over. I swore after the last woman who tried to steal my soul because she had none of her own, that I would never ever allow this to happen ever again.

but here I am, ready and eager, to start from fucking scratch again.

i will be better this time. and the last happy me, was pretty fucking amazing. so I look forward. for the first time in a long time, I have hope.
and for the first time in along time.
I sit here and smile.

:: Charmin 3/11/2011 10:33:00 PM [+] ::
...

I was tempted to draw a line on the bottle of tequila every so often. You know as some sort of register. I swear that every time that I look at this little bottle its lower and lower. What the fuck, is she drinking it before work? I wouldn't put it past her. Who the fuck cares, she is gone now.
I am just glad that she left me some.
And I do hope that she makes it to where she is going. And I do hope that she manages not to get arrested in getting there. But she is not my problem any longer.
And my mother is not hers.

ukulele break

:: Charmin 3/11/2011 10:20:00 PM [+] ::
...

yeah, so I alluded to it a few posts ago.

The news. I dunno, i tried to get all "novelly" about it.
the story.
my uncle R died.
before he died he told me something.
he told me that he used to date my mom before he married my aunt.

after he died I told this to The1. I told her how women keep secrets, and men... old men like to tell theirs before they die.

I asked her though before I told her that, " was it my mom or my uncle R that told me that they dated." At the time I could not remember. And she said, "honey, I think that you dreamt that one, because I don't think that ever happened."

And then the memory started to come back to me. Because once again I had spoken and asked a stupid ass question before I had really thought about it. And I said, no, it's true. Uncle R told me that at Granpa's celebration of life.

She beleived me then I guess. She knows that there are so many memories lost in this little old head of mine. She know that it just takes the right trigger to release them.

But nothing more was said of it.

Until, driving back from Uncle R's memorial service, The1 outright asked my Mom how long she and R dated before he and Janny got togather. And without missing a beat, she answered. \
she never questioned how we knew.
and she didn't deny it.
she wouldn't lie
she just wouldn't have ever brought it up herself.

perhaps it is a difference between men and women, or perhaps we all want to spill our secrets before we die.

:: Charmin 3/26/2010 12:27:00 AM [+] ::
...

I figured out what the problem is. I forgot to look at the title of this blog. It says "The Adventures of Charmin." Not the fucking depressing blather of ASK.
Silly me.

Ha, you may not understand... no how oould you. You just happened upon this site, and do not know, could not know that you stumbled upon the drunken ramblings of ASK's alter ego.

yes, when i have a few and my life begins to flow is when I become Charmin...
this bullshit that I have posted recently, well that is all ASK.

Silly to think I could post whatever I want here. I really should have just left this shite blank. I guess, iwas just worried that the charmin does not come out too often that I would not post for years and i guess... not posting for years would not really matter. would it?

but what am i doing on here now. I have nothing to post really. I guess I am just sauced enough to feel the old charmin coming out.

boring.
perhaps she is dead.

i hate to inform you, but charmin is dead.

Charmin, the alter ego of ask died three years ago... her rotting corpse was not discovered until just now... I went to have a drink with her, and discovered that she had passed of natural causes. Natural causes of a dying star. Too much heat, a black hole in heart, and disuse. If that aint natural, I don't know what is.

ha.

i am sure that she would have wanted us all to lament, and declare our true love.

I am sure that she would want something poetic, and beautiful. not flowers, not ceremony.

something.

not this nothing/

serves her right.

revenge is a dish best served cold.

:: Charmin 3/26/2010 12:13:00 AM [+] ::
...

I have a new job. I am a nanny. And i should be thankful for that. I am thankful to spend some time with the little guy. He is about as perfect as a little guy can be.
I will also be doing some carpentry work for a couple of lesbians my sister introduced me too.
I start tomorrow.
I will let you know how it goes.

:: Charmin 3/19/2010 12:01:00 AM [+] ::
...

My uncle Roger just died. And I don't think I will be able to go to sleep. and it just sucks. what a good old guy... we'll miss you roger.
Roger was a tall skinny black man. he was always a smooth character you know. He was in his 80's so his time, not the moment of his conception, or his birth, but his hey dey was in the 1950's. His wife, my mom's sister was just a kid.

So Roger was the cool uncle that one year gave my brother a joint at our ittle family reunion. And my brother being a good brother shared that with me. I must have been in my late teenage years... That was the last time I remember Roger in good health.

We would go the lakehouse, and the adults would drink and smoke cigarrettes. And the kids would play in the lake. Aunt J would make a huge feast and we would all grab out plates and try to find a place at one of the tables.

It was at my Granpas celebration of life last year that Roger told me something that I never knew before.

At first I just listened, because that is what you do for your elders that you care about. But I would have never suspected that it would be such an interesting story. I have come to know that at the end of their lives old men like to tell their stories. I can see how a lot of the stories get overlooked by the women that usually have to listen to them. The beginning of the story is well known by the wives of the old men. And so these women bored, change the subject. Or they know the truth and just don't think it appropriate. But I waited to hear the end, and that is why I became privleged to know. I just know that the stories the men like to tell are stories women would never ever share, not even on their deathbeds.

:: Charmin 3/07/2010 01:51:00 AM [+] ::
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Motivation is hard. I have things to do, and I cannot bring myself to do them. Yesterday, I had some issue with my shoulder, and I took it easy. Today it is still tender, but hurts much less. I dunno what the fuck I did to it. I guess that is just one of the joys of getting older. Somehow injuries occur without us even knowing it.

:: Charmin 2/24/2010 05:48:00 PM [+] ::
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I just cracked open a bottle of wine. Literally, it has a screw top.

Jesus Jones(not the band, the skinny little ego centric fucker that Red Rita left her husband for) once told me that screw tops were the best way to preserve a wine, but that they were just not in fashion. They have gotten a bad wrap, people assume the wine is cheap if there is a screw top. And in this case it is. But sometimes, I try to judge a wine not by its cork, because on occasion, it could be that it is not cheap, but rather, the bottler did not care about image.

But like I said, this is a cheap bottle. and i intend to drink every bit of it. And in so doing, I will probably only have the one glass and then go to bed. It is only when I am do not intend to get really drunk that I do.

Ah, so what do you ask is the occasion. Well, I have figured out that I do not care if she gets mad at me anymore. I do not care if the reasons are unreasonable and without logic. I do not care if it is an injustice to my psyche and my humanity, and my well being I just don't care. And I am afraid, that it goes without saying, that I do not care anymore if her reasons are legitamate.

Once upon a time, i dated a girl named pickles. She was my girlfriend when I was 22 years old. We met and she seduced me, and we had like a week long fuckfest. I kid you not. That girl fucked me better then anyone ever has, and probably ever will. We fucked and fucked and fucked. And by week two, I knew that she and I were not meant to be.

Three years later, I had lost so much of myself, and become such an asshole that leaving her was the only right thing to do.

I can say it so easily now. But at the time it was totally and sincerely tragic. I was not meant to be an asshole, but I was. I tried to accomodate her into my life. I did. But she just did not fit. And she was so jealous of anyone I had ever fucked before. That pretty much means that she did not get along with every one of my friends. Take of that what you will.

I swore after her that i would be true to myself.
I have failed miserably. Well, not all is lost. I see myself as how I am meant to be. I see myself charming the charmed, and impressing the impressive. I have visions clear as day. The problem is, they are never here, and they are never with her.

I think everything would have been fine, but she battered me into the only defensive position I know. And some people yes, some people would think it assholey.

well what is a girl to do. I used to care. I just have spent all my care savings, and have no more. I care not.

if i remember i start to cry. Something is broken, and for fucksake, it isn't me. Why the fuck am I the one to bear the brunt of her neurosis.

Maybe I am not an asshole. I am just trying to make her see. Can I help it if I am so empassioned that I have to yell?

ha, she yelled back.

and I laughed and cried in response, you are yelling me because I say that you do not care about me. That is funny, but not in a good way.

something is broken,
and broke long ago, and finally the splint that we fashioned can take the weight, but the thing is still broken.

hah. glass number two is feeling fine!

I want to learn to play more songs on guitar. I decided a while ago to sing more. I have waited my whole life for someone to encourage me to sing with the voice people would want to listen too. and instead, I have only sung with the timid little piece of shit voice that I can muster through all the fear. But what the fuck am I afraid of now? NOthing. Nothing.

when things are broken, it makes me just not care. And really i think that is a good good thing.

And that is not to say that I haven't the encouragement. My lovely lovely Ginger was there the first night that I ever got the ball up to sing at the open mic.

She fell in love with me then. and has always encouraged me.

she even put me on her latest album. and sometimes she would tell me, your voice is so coool.

what more would a girl need? Fuck, I don't know. I guess to not care anymore.

see, to say that I don't care anymore sounds very teenage angst dramatic. But really it is a liberating thing.

I don't care, that some people may think my voice sounds like shit, I am going to sing anyway.

and I don't care if you don't think i can do it.

and I don't careif you think it can't be done.

and I don't care if I fail, I am at least going to try!

yes yes, liberating.

oh, so I guess i played it up.

this year, we had a made up anniversary date and a no show valentines.
no card
no nothing
she wasn't even in the same state.
i got a text though, that read "happy VD"

See I was never one to buy into all that halmark crap.. But she was.
and so, after being yelled at, I ask her
why. Why the difference. It makes me think that you don't even care.

and then the fight ensued.

ah yes, am liking this wine. I hardly drink anymore, so i am halfway drunk.

I think that is what my problem is. I hardly drink anymore. I mean I would hate to encourage the fucking drunk i live with. And I would hate to not be supportive. Right

once again, i suffer because of her addictions, dare I say neurosis.

So fuck it.
I am going on vacation again, and I think that is my only salvation these days.

I think I am even going to lillith fair in red rocks colorado. I am not sure exactly when it is, but I hope to meet up with some friends.
and then head east.

go to iowa/
go to illinois.

see my up and coming niece. play some music with ginger/
have a concert even.

i can't wait.
and I don't care how long i am gone.

:: Charmin 2/17/2010 10:54:00 PM [+] ::
...

Today is a new and better day. There were no tears.
I worked on my new protoytpe. I think that it might be a popular item. And therefore I am sworn to secrecy.

i sist here with my cat lying on my forearm as I type. She is the funniest little thing.

So my new thing is a project a day. and it is not like I am going to kick my ass if I don't get the project done. But I haven't had to worry about that because i have gotten all of them done thus far. yeah, I am pretty proud of myself. They are organizational projects to improve my life. And I can say that they have helped with my productivity and my standing with my woman.

She denies this, but the messier the house is, the grouchier she gets. And even though i would try to contain my projects to the kitchen table, that would still annoy her.

Now I have my activities nook. I installed the bookcas above the desk today. It was a tight fit, but it slid right in.

The desk on the other hand took another effort. It sucked really having to lug the thing back out to the shop to dismantle and to improve... but I did it.

Todays project was the rolling workbench with wood storage beneath. Tis funny, always after the thing is buit do you come up with a better way. I guess that is why prototypes are a good thing.

so nothing really new to report...
nothing sold on etsy. But I guess that is ok. There is more to come.

:: Charmin 1/24/2010 02:16:00 AM [+] ::
...