This Dresser...

Does this happen to you? You're going about your day in a normal work-a-day fashion, being the best version of your typically calm, reasonable self and then you'll encounter a scenario whereby all of the repressed frustration and anger and white hot rage that has accumulated in the deepest and most primitive cells in your body your entire life comes bubbling to the surface and explode in a torrent of crazy person all over the place?

For my husband the other day it was the car window shade we bought for the baby at Canadian Tire. Purchased it, brought it out to the van, put it up, didn't suction to the window with the little suction cups. A six dollar piece of crap item that you just want to work didn't and I could see that silently, ever so subtly, he lost a little tiny part of his mind.

For me, it's



this dresser. I hate...this dresser. Hate. This dresser. It was a cast off from my grandparents farm house after they had both passed away. I needed a dresser, or chest of drawers of you will, and so by default alone, inherited it. It came with a vanity table too, one that was so obviously made early on in the 20th century when people were much much smaller than they are today. I hated it too. Hated. It. It had this gigantor mirror and practically no space in which to do anything and it got crammed into my already over crammed room at the time and it just took up space and collected dust and I poured contempt and disdain all over it until I finally unburdened myself of it shortly after it became my possession.

The dresser, unfortunately, was a different story. I couldn't just get rid of it cuz at the time I had no means to replace it. So it has travelled with me for two moves now, this decrepit, ancient eyesore of a thing. It's full, it's in use, but every time I look at it I see the chip in the finish and the water stains and the dust it collects from intentional neglect and I just seethe.

I rarely use the bottom two drawers. Partly because I've sort of forgotten what is in them and partly because I'm convinced that whatever clothing might be there, likely doesn't fit me anymore anyway. But the biggest reason is that the drawers simply don't function. The drawers are simply boxes fit into slots and because this hideous monstrosity is older than old and the environment of late has been wetter than wet, you may be able to coax a drawer open but you'll be damned if you try and get it closed again.

Enter white hot raging crazy person. I went looking for a t-shirt. Which I found. In the drawer. Which will not close. I am not above admitting to you that I have actually beaten up the dresser before because of this very problem. This time I was able to restrain myself to mere fantasies of taking an axe to it, busting it up into smithereens and setting them ablaze whilst dancing around in a drunken reverie. Which I've decided is exactly what I'll do when we get new bedroom furniture, perhaps sometime this fall. I think it'll be cathartic.

Until later...