Does every house have one? I sure hope so. We are the proud owners of, oh, around six. This one, however, is my favorite.
So much so, in fact, that I was going to write an ode to it today — just to try something different. But I can’t figure out how to single space on this f-ing blog. It seems pretty clear that you can’t. Which means poetry is out. It’s incredibly irritating. Am I the only blogger out there who wants to panegyrize a heap of refuse? One of these days — perhaps after I finally file our 2011 taxes, change my married name, and submit my MOMS Club annual report — I’m moving to a more user (read: idiot) friendly blog host.
The upside? I get to keep it short and sweet today. Go take a nap, even. Which is good, since MJ was up at six, demanding more, more, more familial drawings. Move over, Rembrandt. Move over Mary Cassatt.
Move over, Mike. I want to go back to bed.
So thanks for the shuteye, Corner of Shame. And all of the hassle you’ve saved me. Because of you, I never have to wonder where to put spare shipping boxes. Because of you, our kitchen rug has a place to rest after its ever-so-taxing day. Because of you, paper towels no longer have to be stored separately, in an infuriating diaspora that causes me to ransack my own home searching for a roll. Because of you I know where to find, well, just about everything. There is comfort in that. And peace. And really, only a little self-hatred.
I guess that’s ode enough.
One other thing: anyone need a cooler?