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Poor Lee Bond. All he wants is to be left alone and not subject to renovation hell that his arguably deranged (though I’m sure she’s really nice) mother is putting him through. I admire his resolve because I would have snapped long ago.

It started with shelving in the closet. Which I like. But the process, which invloves a father who can literally spend sixteen hours choosing the proper nails, was a long and painful one, complete with architectural designs that would have flabbergasted Frank Lloyd Wright and horrified my ninth grade english teacher (closet is almost always spelled clost, and it ain’t shorthand she’s dropping down.) Any and all renovations in my room, small enough to frighten lifers on death row with it’s size, involves the removal of all my worldly possessions to ‘make room for your father and his tools’. This is a big lie. It’s so she can create a list of things I own that she wants me to throw away.

This entry was posted on Saturday, December 11th, 2004 at 20:48 PM and is filed under flashcube. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.