hell’s bells

my partner’s [ugh. hate that word.] a packrat, and today he is packratting his still-living-about-to-move-in mum’s hutch into the kitchen/dining room corner. it is making me VERY crabby.

1. the wood doesn’t match any of the several shades of wood in the existing furniture.

2. the decorative moulding is immaculate 1970s country farmwife/what 50yos would inappropriately call, “kitsch.”

3. the display portion, until 15 minutes ago, displayed his mum’s [we'll call them] “collections” [for lack of a better word] of decorative plates, bells, and glass animals, even though his mum does not move in for a couple of months. hubby removed them when faced with my cold, silent, raised-eyebrow glare in response to his, “what do you think?” [[a perceptive packrat!]]

god love ‘im. but seriously… let’s learn the difference between bags-and-post-on-the-table-and-counter clutter and excessive-furniture-and-crappy-knickknacks-that-would-hardly-sell-for-a-dollar-at-a-garage-sale clutter.

[[i won't even mention the grotesquely obtrusive electric can opener and the hot-dog warmer contraption cos then i'd be subject to severe comeuppance for the ugly stash of coffee bins and water bottles next to the kitchen sink.]]

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One Response to “hell’s bells”

  1. Mersies Says:

    Kindly keep the updates coming! And the website? Look for it soon…everywhere. It’s for real. Me, maker-of-robots, and our blonde Irishman friend.

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