If hell had another name

It would be called Bed, Bath, and Beyond. I'm not sure why but that place intimidates and entices me at the same time. It's too organized or something. Organization intimidates me a little. If you shared a room with my sister growing up, you'd understand, but I'll tell you guys about that another time. And have ya'll noticed that all the smells are enough to wake the comatose? Those sachet things with an aroma haze dizzying up the air always have names like,'Pomegranate Breeze,' and, 'Lavender Fields' . I love those things. Only I can't differentiate what exactly I'm smelling when I pick one up because all the smells have become one big perfume soup and I've been enveloped in it. I felt like a cartoon character trying to get away from a bee swarm and the only way to really escape is to jump in a lake. And there's just so much damn stuff in there. I do need stuff don't get me wrong. Our walls are bare. I need new rugs for my bathroom and kitchen. We both need new shower curtains. Our comforter needs replacing and I need some extra blankets for when my in laws visit next month. And dammit I want some serious black out curtains in my bedroom before the summer sun starts waking me up at 7am. But there's almost too many choices, I get all confused. I don't go to those places with MrPea because I feel sorry for him when I subject him to this kind of stuff. Why? Because when I go to these places I'm suddenly overwhelmed by the urge to turn over, inspect, investigate every item in the store until I decide not to buy anything at all because the exact color, style, design I'm looking for does not exist.

I did buy a couple things including a tension rod I wanted to use to hang up a curtain to separate my closet from my bathroom. This is because my closet is in the bathroom so whenever I'm in front of the bathroom mirror, reflected behind me is my messy closet and I'm sick of looking at it. So rather than clean it up like any other non-lazy sane person, I'd rather just hang up a curtain there instead. However I managed to bend the tension rod in less than 5 minutes after I got in my car when I adjusted my seat to accommodate my, ahem, short legs. Great. I tried to fix it when I got home with some pliers and ended up squishing my finger which resulted in me re-breaking the tension rod with my foot on the balcony in a full fledged temper tantrum, Peanut joining in on the attack with teeth as his chosen weapon. There goes my $4.99.

All in all though, I feel good about my day. But I'm still not cleaning out that hole that is my closet. In fact I'm going back there tomorrow after my appointment for another tension rod cuz I'll be damned if I have to look at that mess in the mirror one more time.