curtains. the death of a dream. A dream gets kicked in the face.

I go through these cycles. Relax, not those cycles. I mean... that's not what I'm talking about. Try to focus. I have cyclical desires to a) lay down and read books for a month, b) create crafty things and fix my house and cook treats and c) other random things, none of which are "nesting" or getting a strong desire to clean my house. Anyway. I'm in a little bit of a crafty stage right now, where I try crafty things and (spoiler!) fail most of them.

I remember my parents going through this. "We should build a fountain! Inside the house!" my mom would say. My dad would argue that it would cost too much and be too much work, and then they'd go to the library to get a DIY fountain book and to Lowe's, to stand around for a few hours waiting for assistance. Eventually, the fountain would be built, or there would be gold wallpaper, or they'd build a table, and it would have cost 3 times what they expected and much, much more than some random fountain they could have bought premade. It's how we do.

And the internet has made it much worse, because the internet says, HEY YOU SHOULD MAKE THIS IT'S TOTES EASY AND YOU NEED IT, BECAUSE YOU ARE LIVING IN RUBBLE. "Let's make curtains!" I say. So I start doing math. It's like, Okay. Measure your window from the top of the Hypoteneuse Strategy through the meridium. Now, multiply that by 3. That is how much fabric you will need, except translate that into metric and then back. For the width, hold your measuring tape at a 47 degree angle and tilt your head slightly to the left and then add 18, unless you are near the Equator. I wrote about a third of the instructions down and then I went to find the MOG, because I ain't cut out for book larnin.

fabric samples.
quit looking at my fan, it can't help
looking like that. 

"Hmm." he says. "All we have to do is measure the windows." And something in my soul resounds. Yes! All we have to do is measure the windows! So we do, and we take our crew of 1,432 children to Walmart and the girl working the fabric counter looks over our math and determines that we need 6 yards of fabric. Now, I give her the side-eye, and in my mind I thought, ain't no way in heck that's enough fabric, but math intimidates me so I stepped aside and the MOG, who hates Walmart maybe even more than he hates the devil, agreed that that sounded fine.

Next we went to Lowes to buy my electrical conduit, for the making of dirt-cheap but classy curtain rods, so we could stop living in a hovel. Richy went in by himself, because Tristan had Walmart demons and was no longer permitted in public. After about 3 hours (very slight exaggeration) he calls and tells me that my dirt-cheap DIY plan is going to cost us a fortune, or something like that, I couldn't hear him over the sound of screaming. But it wasn't just me, Tristan was crying, too. So I agreed to anything, anything. Just anything. I will hang chicken bones and make curtains out of green beans, whatever.

So we went back to Walmart and I bought the 2 dollar curtain rods that look like a mobile home (no disrespect) and then we went home to find that all of our collective minds are rubbish and 6 yards covers like a third of ONE window and I have like 10 windows. 3 hours at Lowes and Walmart to almost have enough cheap curtain rods. If we tack Tristan's therapy bill onto the tab, these curtains should be in the Taj Mahal. What curtains, you say? Oh, that's right. WE STILL DON'T HAVE ANY CURTAINS.

I am going to buy bedsheets. I am going to cut them in half and hem them, probably badly, and then I am going to hang them on my windows. And when you come over, you will say they look great and I am a great housewife, and tell Tristan that his needs matter and his voice is heard. OR ELSE.