Decorating Tips

Since I have my own apartment but no friends that I want to come visit it, decorating hasn't really been my top priority. Luckily, some friends got married and gave me their second set of kitchen stuff; otherwise I'd be eating off of the bathtub ledge (because it's easy to sterilize, and afterward I can just shower the crumbs away. Don't pretend you've never done it).

Here are the things I have in my apartment currently:

• A bed
• A table
• Two chairs
• A desk still in the box, waiting to be assembled by tools I don't own
• A fully stocked kitchen
• Old yogurt in the fridge, among other foodstuffs
• Stackable plastic drawers for my clothes
• A trash can
• A shower curtain and some very fluffy towels
• Candles
• Cardboard boxes stacked up so that I can't even see the back door anymore. I keep them there to deter burgling. And in case I want to build a fort.

I'm like a less-charming Holly Golightly, in that I can't find anything, although that's most likely because I probably think I own a bunch of things that I don't. So I just wander around my apartment yelling, "WHERE DID I LEAVE MY GROWN-UP WARDROBE/HAIR DRYER/SOFA/DOG?" And then my downstairs neighbor shouts up, "CARRIE. YOU ONLY HAVE A BED AND THREE PLATES AND LIKE FOUR OUTFITS YOU BOUGHT WHEN YOU WERE TWELVE. STOP DOING THIS EVERY DAY."

Maybe I'm just a minimalist. Not because I particularly need my life streamlined, but because it's too hard to bring anything bigger than a lamp up the three flights of steep, narrow stairs. Plus, I prefer to spend my paycheck on more useful things, like fine cheeses and silly string. 

I do, however, have an impressive collection of mugs. I moved to a third-floor apartment so that on the worst day of my life, I can stand on the rickety back stairs and smash them all onto the ground. But I'll wait until the Amish are passing by, and scare them.

Anyway. I have lots of decorating ideas now that it's spring and I can shop at the thrift stores downtown and then just haul my new stuff home without worrying about breaking my body on ice and slush. Check in for regular installments of Auntie Carrie's Decorating Tips, including:

• Match Your Home: Using textiles to blend in with your surroundings
• Hobo-Chic: Tin cans and old shoes make any lean-to feel cozier instantly
• In the Belly of the Beast: Throw out your zebra print ottoman; animal innards are what's in today!

Image via The Bohemian Luxe Life.

The Regular

I've joked about how often I eat at Taco Bell, but you should know that I'm not exaggerating. Today I pulled through the drive-thru and the lady at the window pointed at me and said, "No sauce, right?"

"Hot sauce."

"Agh! I knew it," she  said. "I was just telling them that I recognized the lady who always gets one bean burrito."

And all of my dreams came true.

Image via Shade One.

I Should've Been a Bachelor

Here's something the stereotypes don't tell you: Sometimes girls are messy.

Not endearingly untidy or adorably scatterbrained, but deeply, patholigically dirty, in a way that makes you clasp your hand to your bosom and whisper, "How can you live like this?"

It's disgusting, but messiness usually means the girl is brilliant, beautiful, and/or wildly talented.

It just so happens that none of those applies to me. I am just gross.

I am also hungry, most of the time. Sometimes when I don't eat for over half an hour, I start to cry - brave, blubbering tears over the punishment I put myself through to maintain this fantastic bod.

Stop laughing.

Whenever The Hunger comes upon me, nothing can stop my path of destruction through everything  even remotely edible in the general vicinity.

Not even an expiration date.

When I first moved to Pennsylvania and hung out in The Boy's apartment all day while looking for a job, there wasn't much to eat. The Boy can't eat eggs, gluten, or dairy, so I didn't have many options for edible food. I bought a loaf of bread and made tuna sandwiches most days, but after a week or so I finally realized that the mayonnaise had expired in 2011.

I read the date mid-bite, but instead of spitting it out and throwing the rest of the sandwich away, I figured I might as well finish it. If I was going to die anyway, it seemed foolish to die hungry.

After I finished, I put the relish away and reached for the mayonnaise.

And paused.

And thought about my actions.

The garbage wasn't full; it wasn't as if throwing this old mayonnaise away would require a trip to the dumpster. But I kind of thought I might want tuna the next day, and throwing the bottle away today meant a trip to the store tomorrow. Besides, the trash was behind a closed cabinet, and the fridge door was already open.

Really, the decision was made for me.

I recently bough a new jar of mayo, after finishing the last one about a month ago. New expiration date: May 2014.

Well. We'll see.




Image of Marlene Deitrich by Eugene Robert Richee, via tumblr; “La Naine Dona Mercedes” by Ignacio Zuloaga, via Where is Pierre.