A study in middle-class overaccumulation...

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The closing on our house was set for next Tuesday, so we finally have a date to look forward to. We get the keys at that meeting, and then we're off to Sears to go into hock for appliances and bathroom decor. Mom's really excited, and for good reason-- if the place we bought that house looks anymore like Wisteria Lane, I'd expect my neighbor to be Mike the hot plumber. She's going to live there way longer than me, so her opinion of it carries more weight than mine. But I pay rent, so mine matters some, I think. Either way, my new room is huge and I get finally have wireless internet (the geek in me fucking hates dial-up.) The only issue is the cowboy-pattered wall border in the room-- so I get to spend a day or two steaming it off and repainting. Oh well, who doesn't look thier best covered in paint flecks, sweat and dust? (that would be me, but it's worth it.)

I finished excavating that closet, it held more useless shit than a neighborhood yard sale. Is this why I got an anthro degree and took classes in archaeology? I feel like I should have drawn a map and hired undergrads to do the dirty work for free.