I Am My Own Thom Felicia
Another pleasant day of domesticity.
Somewhere in this great land of ours, leathermen gather for fun and frolic. (Uh... "somewhere" would be Folsom Street in San Francisco).
But here at the Ol' Homestead, it's a different story. After yesterday's bout of housecleaning, today I turned my attention to my bedroom, the bathrooms, laundry, and chopping some firewood. The prize of the day is my bedroom. It is transformed. Even Dear Old Dad commented, along the lines of "You turned a shithole into a palace."
Yes I did.
The arrangement of the furniture I did when I moved here a year ago totally didn't work. So job one was moving around the furniture to find something that works. Then, I filled up two hefty bags with crap I don't need anymore (I love nothing more than throwing stuff away; it's like getting my teeth cleaned, getting a straight razor shave, and having a session with the Showershot all in one day). Then, I started arranging things on my bookcases. First off came a sort of shrine to all things leather. Three framed prints I bought at last year's Erotic Arts Festival in NYC, my officer's cap, rebel cap, leather cowboy hat, bootblack kit, various lengths of chain... It looks great in there. So great. It all, suddenly, works together so well.
Oh. And I swept up a years worth of dog hair, too.
Now, attic to basement, the house is looking great. (Okay, so the basement is still a disaster. That will have to wait until I can rent a dumpster.)
And I think I'm gonna go tackle a few boxes from the garage. Get that cleared out. Set up a welding atelier. As a time of renewal, Spring is over-rated. It seems Autumn is what's giving me a well deserved kick in the ass.