Archive for September 25th, 2010

September 25, 2010

Fall to Pieces

by Cait

Do you ever completely lose it?  I’m not talking about physically losing something like your keys, I’m talking completely fall apart.  I’m sure it’s a faux pas to mention how you don’t always have things together on your blog (especially when your blog is only a wee baby blog), but I’m doing it anyway because I rarely do things the “right” way (come on, I’m the girl who rarely uses primer! on a home decor blog!)  So, I could whine about how Robert and I have had a hard day/week/month/year, or I could  tell you about how the saleswoman who I was about to buy the  absolutely perfect (and 24.99/yd!) grey wool I wanted for the guest room bed from was being the world’s biggest witch threw me over the edge.  I don’t really want to do either because I’m sure that I’ll look back on this and be horribly embarrassed for falling apart (especially when I’m already a little embarrassed now), but it wouldn’t be much of a blog post if I told you I had a bad day and then didn’t explain, would it?

Robert and I went to work yesterday instead of being with his grandmother because neither one of our jobs gives us time off for that kind of thing.  My day at work started when I told my boss what was going on and he asked how old Robert’s grandmother is. When I told him her age he gave me the face and said “My grandmother lived to be 104, but I wish she had only made it to 102 because the last few years were bad with the dementia”.  You know that face, the one that seems to say “well you should have expected that”.  I guess he was trying to be helpful by relating.  From there my work day only got worse and I won’t bore you with all those details.

When we got home Robert and I ate leftovers and planned to visit his grandmother after going to Jo-Ann where I was intending on buying grey felt to wrap the faux bed frame we’re making for the guest room.  I pretty much planned the whole room around this bedframe after seeing a picture of the bed Daniel made on Heidi’s blog.  (Yes, I know the West Elm bed below is covered in grey jute not grey felt but I thought the grey felt would be a nice magnet for our white dog hair we’re on a budget.)


Unfortunately when we got to the store I saw the grey wool. And it was $24.99 a yard. (And they put a giant 40% off sign over it that said in tiny letter that that the fabric I wanted was excluded, but my tired eyes with my really old glasses didn’t see that part.) We did some quick math to figure out how many yards we would need, took a number and got in line. After we waited through several “Jo-Ann will be closing in x minutes” announcements, nearly got skipped by a woman who refused to take a number a witchy saleswoman finally called our number and asked how many yards we needed. “Three please,” I said. The witchy sales woman took one look at my dirty hair and puffy face from getting home at midnight the night before and getting up at six and said “You know this is $24.99 a yard, right?” “Yes” I said, and my husband, God bless him, said “It’s 40% off!” She looked at us like I had green things coming out of my dirty hair we were complete idiots and said rudely “This brand isn’t included”.  I’m sure she had had a terrible day also and just wanted to go home, so I made it a lot better for her by thumping the bolt of fabric down on the counter in front of her and saying “Screw it then!” and stalking away.

I have no idea why that was the last straw (well, aside from the fact that I had a day of coworkers thinking that bagels are more important than family, and the fact that I hate the month of September aside from Carter’s birth), but for some reason when we got back in the truck I burst into tears and cried the entire way home.

And in other news that makes me want to cry my eyes out, we may be postponing the pallet project we’re working on for the guest post we’re working on for our guest room because Mother Nature is crying her eyes out too it’s forecasted to rain unti next Thursday, which may make deconstructing the rest of the pallets we need impossible.