VIRGINIA LUCAS HART

Hate Moment

apartment, story, organizationVirginia HartComment

Howdy, folks. Sorry it's been a while - had to walk off all those Turkey Day calories that my last post so pleasantly reminded me of...

I got back to the city late Monday afternoon and greeted an empty nest. No boyfriend. No food. No nothin'. Just lil ol' me and seven intact helium birthday balloons staring at me and bobbing around like they were excited for my return. (We started off with 8, but the whole game of hearing-your-chipmunk-voice was too hard for this kid at heart to pass up.)

So what do ya do when you get home from being on the train for 6 and a 1/2 hours and you're pooped and kinda sad and all you want to do is curl up and watch TV? You CLEAN. Or at least I do. I promptly ordered an assortment of sushi rolls a la Seamless Web (gotta love NYC delivery) and put on my tool belt.

No, I'm not kidding. It's cream-colored.

See, I quickly remembered when I started to unpack that my closet's hanging rod was literally hanging by one eensy weensy teeny tiny little screw. I had been sitting in bed for weeks waiting for the inevitable *kerplunk* and I needed to put an end to my fretting. Thus, I decided to play "tool girl".  I first piled all of my clothes into one big heap on my bed.

Sidenote: these are, of course, the moments when you find your long lost top. You're initially thrilled to be reunited, but then you go to put it back on a hanger and you realize your perpetual hate for said top. It doesn't matter what fancy hanger you use, it's always going to fall off. It's also conveniently made of such material that wrinkles easily if you fold it and since folding it, at least in NYC, means stuffing it in a drawer or in your under-bed-storage, you opt to awkwardly hangitupsuperfast and hold your breath...stepping away slowly.

Don't pretend like you don't know what I'm talking about.

Anyhoo, so there I was. After I got my second wind from a delicious spicy tuna roll (and after I scrubbed the kitchen, bathroom & toilet room. What can I say? Easily sidetracked.) I removed the hanging rod and old screws and plastered up the holes. After letting it dry (and after cleaning the rest of the apartment), I got out my power drill a little before 9:00PM.

Sorry, neighbors. heh.

I drilled the screws in until everything seemed amazingly secure. I was so proud! I paced the short length of my apartment desperately wanting to give someone a high-five. My super Mario (could he possibly have a better name? idunTHINKso) even stopped by my apartment since I had initially called for his help. And even he, mister handyman, was impressed. I happily put back my clothes, organizing by occasion and season (my mother in me) and went to bed.

Early Tuesday morning I was bopping to Jay-Z's "Empire State of Mind" while putting on my mascara when I slid my closet doors open to make my daily decision of what to wear.

And then I saw it.

I regret to inform you that my closet hanging rod has fallen loose and it's once again hanging on one eensy.weensy.teeny.tiny.little.screw.

You know how I mention my love/hate relationship with my apartment in my "about me" section?

This was a hate moment.

until next time,

g