Right now, the house is quiet, the babies are sleeping and I am sipping a glass of cheap Moscato…so forgive me if my typing is a little slurred.
And just be prepared…this post is gonna change your freaking lives.
Seriously. Put money on it. Sell your kids. Pack your husband. Bag your house.
This is gonna be the time….the exact moment in history….take notes of the weather…because you will remember it…like the moment when Kennedy was shot. I remember where I was, do you?
Yes, my friends. That is a trash can. A very important trash can that goes with my very important sewing desk that obviously houses a very reliable and loved sewing machine. Which, by the way, I hate that thing. #justbeinghonest
So obviously I need to hem my office curtains. And in order for me to do that, I need to get on that sewing contraption and in order for me to do that, I brainstormed a place for the yards of extra thread that I produce with mis-stitches and terrible techniques and in order for me to do that, I need a trash can. Do you see what I am stitching together here?
It’s called a story. And it’s about a dollar. A dollar store trashcan.
And a fine tipped Sharpie. Because otherwise it is the fairest trashcan in all the lands.
After I was done with it, it looked like its freckled cousin. And if you have seen my eldest son or Opie or Lindsey Lohan…you know…freckles make things better. Seriously Lindsey…put down the hair bleach and pick up the freckles. Best. advice. ever.
It took me about an hour to make all the dots…but that was because I was talking on the phone and watching the kids. I am sure that if you were kidless and phoneless…it would still take about an hour…and if you were dotting a trashcan while phoneless and kidless, you are making some wrong decisions in life my friend. Do I need to repeat the whole hair bleach warning?!
So now that I have a cute little trashcan for my sewing station, I am ready. Ready for some hemming. Or maybe I will just use hem tape
Oh…I have a beefier post for you later…about our annual pumpkin painting party. I have a butt-ton of posts this week. My mom loves that word…butt-ton. Not to be confused with button. But I bet you will never hear ‘button’ the same again You are welcome.