Someone’s going to take away my adult card, and, to tell the truth, I’d be very happy if they did. Sure, adulthood is full of many wonderful things: I can buy lottery tickets, tobacco, and alcohol, I can pay bills, I get to set my own bedtime and then wonder why I’m sleepy and in need of gallons of coffee in the morning, I still can’t legally rent a car for another 5 months, but that’s just because rental companies are jackwagons. But my utter and complete failure as an adult should really influence the powers that be to come take away the job and the car keys and hand me a barbie, plant me in a pile of mud, and pat me on my head. Maybe if they’re nice they’ll throw in some red vines.
Last night, in a fit of adulthood brought on by the fact that I’d done laundry AND dishes AND vacuumed all in the same day, I decided I was grown up enough to put up the wall applique I picked up at Hobby Lobby.
Let me preface this by saying: Damn you Hobby Lobby and damn anyone who doesn’t stay up with a candle in their window all night damning you.
The directions said this was easy. The sign said this was easy. I should have known it was going to test everything I thought I knew about the word easy.
In the picture, a happy tree branched out from behind a model furniture. Little bird silhouettes chirped happily from their perch. It looked like just the sort of thing to set a relaxing atmosphere in my otherwise cluttered bedroom.
First thing I do is unroll the giant sticker and lay it flat, you know, like an adult would. I take the sticker off the backing. I’m walking carefully to the location I’ve chosen for it. I trip on the carpet.
The sticker wraps in on itself becoming as tangled as any vine has ever been. Where the sticky side meets the picture, it rips the ink off. The tree looks more like a tumbleweed. I begin carefully pulling the sticker apart when it happens. The damn thing rips. I do what any sensible person would do: I throw it at the wall and throw around a few mothers of bad things and sons of other bad things.
I throw myself on my bed, grab my phone and update my facebook status. Again, these are all very sensible adult things to do.
“What made me think I have the patience and skill to put stick-on things on my walls? Mother of bad things!!”
Notice the excessive punctuation. I should also note that at this time, Facebook tried to sell me a baby dragon. I am failing at adulthood and decoration as Facebook is trying to give me a fire-breathing infant. Good call. Also, where do they get dragons from?
Calm (er), I return to the project at hand. I decide the sucker will go up in pieces just as well as it would have in 1 piece. So I start tearing like crazy.
I once entered a drawing to win a fixer-up-er in North Carolina. Perhaps it’s a good thing I never won.
I lost track of where my new puzzle pieces went. At this point, there’s a willy-nilly tree on my wall, looking like the worst part of winter in New Mexico. It also looks as though it has been gnawed by elk.
There are extra branches to fill in spaces. It’ll look fine. But wait, there’s more. Why does this branch have different leaves? Most of the tree is ginkgo, this one branch is oak. What the hell, Hobby Lobby? Am I supposed to pretend that we are splicing trees together? Progressive.
Birds! The birds that came with the kit will cover up frankentree’s scars.
Sorry it’s so dark. Apparently my room is also dark and spooky. Guess I won’t be sleeping… ever. Notice how the birds look like they are going to swoop down and peck your eyes out Alfred Hitchcock style. They’re plotting my demise as we speak, probably.