You know how, for some people, Target is the devil? And not because it’s filled with screaming children, loud cell phone talkers, and people who just have to sniff every single stick of deodorant before they choose one. For some folks it’s a weakness because they are incapable of only getting what they need, and instead come out with an armful of useless Tarjay crap. I’m not judging though – I totally do that at Micheal’s, which is ridiculous because I’ve publicly stated my dislike for Craft Hell.
And yet, I can’t walk in there without buying some sort of crafty item – a can of spray paint, canvases, some rubber stamps, Martha Stewart craft paper (damn you Martha), whatever. The problem is that I never have anything in mind when I pick up this stuff, but I know eventually I’ll use it for something.
Anyway, today my husband left me alone so I could ‘get shit done’, also known as writing. I opened up my laptop, shut it after about five minutes of staring at the screen, and instead opened the door to the closet with all my crafty junk. Because that, my friends, is usually when I end up meshing all my arbitrary craft store purchases into an even more random piece of nothing, when I am supposed to be doing something else. It’s a dangerous form of procrastination. Since I’m actually engaged in something, I can fool myself into believing I’m not dawdling on a more pressing project. But it isn’t only procrastination that presents a problem. My art projects, if you can call them that, are really just me making a mess and ruining things. Take today, for example. I should have known to put the art supplies away when, while rubbing gold leaf all over a wooden bird cage, I got an itch in my ear and decided to scratch it, effectively gold leafing my left one. I also super glued my fingers together – not to be deterred, shortly after prying them apart I glued them to some tweezers. I am nothing if not perseverant. I may or may not have gotten glue all over the place mats too, fortunately they’re reversible. Also, I need new tweezers.
A while back I bought a bag of watch parts, you know, gears and thingies, with this vague idea involving some photos, spray paint, and canvas (and glue, a lot of glue). So I decided to embark on my idea today instead of writing. A couple of hours later, after gluing all the clock gears to the canvas, I realized that it didn’t turn out quite as I envisioned. I needed more gears, which I didn’t have because I had no real plan as to what I would do with them in the first place, let alone how many I would need. So my next thought, of course, was what can I take apart that has metal doodads inside? This filled me with great joy – I may be a full grown adult, but I love to take shit apart. So I prowled around, discovered we don’t own a single clock or watch, eyeballed my husband’s camera equipment but decided that, even though I know for a fact he hasn’t used a couple of his cameras in years, he’d still be hella pissed off if I parted one out for my own amusement. And that’s when it hit me, I have a computer in my trunk.
It’s ancient, a desktop, if that tells you anything, and it’s been in my trunk for about seven years (and yes, I know that while it may be old, there aren’t gears and cogs inside. I think). I vaguely recall having a conversation with my mom when it fritzed out, who warned me about thieves lurking in the dark, just waiting for some unsuspecting person to toss an old computer in the dumpster so they can steal your soul. My answer to this was to toss it in the trunk of my car and forget about it, until today.
I’ve written about my hooptie, Green Machine, previously. It’s a 97, and hasn’t been washed in over a decade, because I firmly believe the dirt is holding it together. Too well, perhaps, because the trunk was sealed shut and it took a considerable amount of prying to get it open (I honestly don’t remember the last time I had a reason to open it, but I’m guessing it’s been at least a year). Anyway, when I finally yanked that sucker up, a spider scurried across a suitcase that was inside.
Did I mention my newest phobia? About a year or so ago I read a post on someone’s blog (and I’m sorry to say I can’t remember who it was) about finding a nest of spiders in her truck. Green Machine lost all the lining that seals the doors a while back, and there are a few holes here and there in the floor board, so the moment I read that post, I thought, oh shit I must have tarantulas in my car. Ever since, I do a quick check whenever I get in to make sure there are no spiders waiting to get me. I don’t look under the seat though, because I’m fairly certain there’s some sort of creepy crawlies down there, and it’s probably best if I don’t make eye contact. Anyway, I slammed the trunk and ran away as quickly as I could. No telling what our nosy neighbor that’s always peeking out her window thought.
Huh. I honestly think I had a moral to this post when I first started writing, but damned if I can remember what it was.