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Tuesday, November 9th, 2004 09:29 pm
lo and yea
This is 'cause I was hiatusing from reading QaF fic. That was *incredibly* stupid of me.
Roughfucked by London. B/J. Post Season four. Flooding. Collarbone pain. Also, you know, smut. Happy. Very, very happy. We're up to Part VI. Bliss.
Beds
It is surprisingly difficult to find a bed I like.
I have been informally searching for a bed for a while, and lo! Once in a blue moon, upon a hill, or perhaps, North Lamar, at the flea market, yea, there it was. My Bed. This was all pre-NY, where my only allowable expenses were underwear.
Since then, the bed has vanished. You know, because having the funds to buy it immediately requires it to vanish into the ether. So. I thought, I will find my bed online! This is the internet! Of course, monkeys, thousand years, typing! Someone will have my bed.
The bed I loved was this metal canopy bed. Nothing fancy about it--the entire charm was the fact that I escaped flowers, willow patterns, sunbursts, or obscure designs. I like *plain*. Let me restate this. Flowers, hearts, stars, and assorted--no. I mean, I would be pretty much blissed out with the equivalent of twelve steel pipes welded together into a rough box shape with eight inches on bottom for leg.
You would be amazed teh number of beds that completely do not fulfill this requirement. I didn't actually--at the time--think it was that rare. But no. There are patterns. There are flowers, climbing ivy, and this massive Mahogany monstrosity that would give good scenery as a prop in a gothic horror movie. There are *hearts*. There is everything *but* that.
...I did go to price pipes. It is also surprisingly difficult to find a place online that sells long steel pipes by the twelves. Also, I can't weld.
But this wont' stop me if my bed doens't appear, dammit. My father was once a welder. My sister can sauter. Her husband can do something with hot objects. Between them all, surely I can figure out how to build a backyard welding spot and make myself a bed.
You all know that when you visit me in the hospital with massive burns, I like tulips, right? Right. Just, you know, remember that.
*sighs* My drama.
You know, if my LJ gets any more boring, I'm going to declare it a pox on civilization. Hmm.
Roughfucked by London. B/J. Post Season four. Flooding. Collarbone pain. Also, you know, smut. Happy. Very, very happy. We're up to Part VI. Bliss.
Beds
It is surprisingly difficult to find a bed I like.
I have been informally searching for a bed for a while, and lo! Once in a blue moon, upon a hill, or perhaps, North Lamar, at the flea market, yea, there it was. My Bed. This was all pre-NY, where my only allowable expenses were underwear.
Since then, the bed has vanished. You know, because having the funds to buy it immediately requires it to vanish into the ether. So. I thought, I will find my bed online! This is the internet! Of course, monkeys, thousand years, typing! Someone will have my bed.
The bed I loved was this metal canopy bed. Nothing fancy about it--the entire charm was the fact that I escaped flowers, willow patterns, sunbursts, or obscure designs. I like *plain*. Let me restate this. Flowers, hearts, stars, and assorted--no. I mean, I would be pretty much blissed out with the equivalent of twelve steel pipes welded together into a rough box shape with eight inches on bottom for leg.
You would be amazed teh number of beds that completely do not fulfill this requirement. I didn't actually--at the time--think it was that rare. But no. There are patterns. There are flowers, climbing ivy, and this massive Mahogany monstrosity that would give good scenery as a prop in a gothic horror movie. There are *hearts*. There is everything *but* that.
...I did go to price pipes. It is also surprisingly difficult to find a place online that sells long steel pipes by the twelves. Also, I can't weld.
But this wont' stop me if my bed doens't appear, dammit. My father was once a welder. My sister can sauter. Her husband can do something with hot objects. Between them all, surely I can figure out how to build a backyard welding spot and make myself a bed.
You all know that when you visit me in the hospital with massive burns, I like tulips, right? Right. Just, you know, remember that.
*sighs* My drama.
You know, if my LJ gets any more boring, I'm going to declare it a pox on civilization. Hmm.
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Not to frilly beds
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From:I'll try to find out more for you. It was relatively inexpensive, if I remember right.
Only problem? Her phone # was lost in a dropped phone - but we went to the same grad school, she lives in the area... I should be able to find her. And I've been wanting to for a while, so it's a good thing you posted this...
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From:Seriously, May????
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From:Beds are a serious thing.
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From:Strangely, I was required to both to pass a class in college. Theatre majors can be idiosyncratic.
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From:And I'd like to point of for the record that I don't find your LJ boring at all. In fact, I find it fascinating and quirky.
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From:...Except on your bed. *g*
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