i'm redecorating my room, and it might be deadly.

Last week, I went to IKEA and was inspired. I found shelving, I found a bed, and I found a desire to paint one wall in my room purple. Oh man was I excited about this. Little did I know it would nearly kill me.

I went to Home Depot a couple days ago. I looked up the directions online, and when I got off the subway everything seemed to be going just dandy. Until I had to go under the freeway and there was, um, no pedestrian crossing. I ended up on the phone with my dad, having him look at Google maps (I love satellite-view) in case he could see something I couldn't. He didn't. So I told him, "Okay, I guess I'll run across eight lanes of traffic like a mad woman. OHMYGOD I'M DOING IT I'M STILL DOING IT OH GOD OH GOD THIS IS CRAZY. Aaaaaaaand, made it! Thanks Dad, I'll talk to you soon!" I did the same thing (sans phone call) on the way back, this time with purple paint in hand.

I painted one wall last night (with the help of the lovely and talented and ever-sexy Melissa), and decided I liked it so much that I should paint the rest of my room. I got home from work today, waited for my bed to be delivered (Yes! It is totally here!), and decided to try going to a different Home Depot that was perhaps slightly easier to get to. It was in a neighborhood I had never been to, and when I got off the subway it was getting dark (this was at a quarter to 9 or so). I suddenly wondered if it was okay for me to walk around the neighborhood alone. At night. In a short skirt. While being white. These were all things I should have considered before leaving my apartment, but foresight is not one of my strong suits.

I made it to Home Depot #2 and back in one piece, so you would assume the worst was over. Ha. I started taping the edges of my room, which might be simple enough, except my apartment does not have a step ladder. There is a high chair, and a barstool with a spinning seat. Because I'm short, the barstool is the only thing tall enough in my apartment that allows me to tape ceiling edges. Did I mention my room is on a slant? And the barstool, um, spins? So for the last hour or so, I've been nearly spinning/falling to my death.

God only knows what will happen when we add paint fumes to the equation.