he forgot to take the tape...

So after 5 long days, I am happy to report that painter is finally gone. Like, gone, gone. Granted, whether his work can truly be considered "finished" is totally debatable but I'm just so happy not to see his hairy butt bent over my baseboards, I'll take it.

Now the hard begins- putting everything back. Because of course, now that I can actually see the true size of my apartment sans all the 4 years of crap I shoved in every corner, I don't want to put it all back.

But can I really just throw it out?? I mean, isn't it like a sin to waste even if I know that I will never, ever, ever, ever listen to that Crunk Hits Volume#2 CD that I got for free when I was the Entertainment Editor/ Bottom Bee-yatch? And even worse, what if rhinestone covered miniskirts with matching bandeau tops come back in style? Sigh.

And even more pressing, let's not forget about all the pictures and shelves that need to be put back up. Cause the ladies know- it's not like back in the day when you could call any of the many men in your life to come over and they'd instinctively know how to help. Right about now, the only thing guys seem to know how to tighten is in the bedroom and unfortunately, the satisfaction on that isn't always guaranteed.

Personally, I think Oprah should start some sort of service center, website, or 1-800-number that overwhelmed women like myself can call. You know like, 1-800-HELP-A-HO (or something catchy like that). And then, I could just rent a man that's got the necessary skills with a screwdriver and hammer to put my life back together all for the price of a smile and home-cooked meal. Yeah, that's exactly what she should do...

Until then, maybe I'll just leave everything exactly where it is and learn to love the little nook in that I've created in the middle of my living room. Thoughts?