And you guys, her vampires are made of glitter. GLITTER!
Ms. Meyer could write a lecture series on Knowing Your Target Audience. The only way preteen girls could eat up the story more is if Edward (lead vampire boyfriend) rode in on Zac Efron. Actually, that might be a very different story, one that a mormon like Ms. Meyer probably wouldn't write.
But better than the whole glitter thing I found myself thinking about what I could do with an undead boyfriend. While I was getting my beauty sleep and otherwise preparing myself to be a productive member of society, my undead boyfriend/husband could be priming the basement for me. What else is he going to do--watch me sleep? That's creepy.
Because painting a basement? It sucks eggs. There's just no venting it sufficiently. Vampires don't breathe, so there would be no reason to worry about wearing a mask or risk of cancer. While he took care of the basement I could address more important activities like getting a haircut and eating cookies.
I was at work this week, waiting for my oatmeal to cook and flipping through the Sunday ads, when I saw that drywall primer was on sale. I took this as a sign from the universe that I should prime this weekend. I should have ignored the universe and watched movies instead. First coat:
Second coat:
I still need to paint the ceiling, the edges, and throw on a third coat to the walls. Then I need to finish all the edges where the drywall meets and basically fill in the cracks and gaps that are EVERYWHERE in the basement. And then deal with the flooring. I sort of want to throw up my hands because I'm not a babysteps kind of girl. I like staying awake for 48 hours straight, working on nothing by coffee and granola bars, and getting shit done. Not only do I lack the funds to finish the basement anytime soon, but there's so much labor to be put in.
Universe, get on that vampire boyfriend!
