When someone says She’s Crafty, my first thought is the Beastie Boys song. And while I’m neither a whore nor a thief, that description probably is more apt than insinuating I like to do decoupage or scrapbooking. And yes, as someone pointed out recently, I did go to art school, but wanting to design and being a crafter are two very different things. Nevertheless, I had something in mind I wanted to do and Michael’s (or A.C. Moore – same difference) was the most obvious place to procure it.
Let’s set the scene for those who’ve been lucky enough to never set foot in this den of iniquity. You walk through the sliding doors and besides the awful fluorescent glow of the overhead lighting, your nose is assaulted by a potpourri explosion. It’s like Glade vomited on you and now you have to walk around in it. Seriously, I get a headache the minute I inhale. So of course the only thing to do is hold my breath, which just goes to speed up the process of getting out of the store. But sadly, because the store is huge and I never know where anything I need is, I not only have to wander the aisles, but I always need to locate an associate and they are NEVER around. So at some point holding my breath will only kill me, and honestly dying at Michael’s could be the saddest most pathetic thing ever, so that ain’t gonna happen.
If I’m lucky enough to locate an associate, usually a teenager or grumbling Millennial who can’t believe he or she also has the misfortune to work there, they always give you an attitude like, ‘why don’t you know where everything is?’ ‘Of course the bulletin boards are in aisle 45 with the calligraphy pens. That makes perfect sense.’ Cue exasperated sigh.
Seriously, it’s like the owners of the store got so delirious from the potpourri smell that they lost all logic when it came to flow and layout and decided to say ‘fuck it’ and put shit wherever the Hell they wanted. I wouldn’t be surprised if there were hidden cameras they watched as they laughed at people like me who wander around muttering expletives under their breath.
So after locating the bulletin boards (and discovering they don’t have those nice quilted ones (!)), I then need something other than thumbtacks, because I want to hang my necklaces on the board. Basically I can’t locate them in the mess that is my jewlery box and they get tangled and then I forget what I have. So I thought I could put the bulletin board behind my door and use small pins or hooks to hang the necklaces. But after wandering the jewelry aisles for 15 minutes and wearing a hole in the linoleum with my fury at not being able to find what I need, I decide to just get the board and use wire nails instead. Because wielding a hammer is much more my speed than a hot glue gun (although sadly I have that from when Owen went to preschool, but I don’t talk about it, look at it or admit it in public).
I’m quite happy with the result which really required no actual crafting, but I can still claim to have put this together myself. And at least it won’t fall off the wall, cause I banged that nail in hard.