It is strange that after seven years of living on the East Coast I still want to run home to Orange County, CA when I feel sad or disappointed. Strange and inconvenient.
Not that I’m feeling any of these things because my life is so totally gangbusters I hardly have a minute to sit back and rest on my laurels. For that reason I’ve decided to have my entire apartment outfitted in laurels. I was going to have the place redone in trophies but after flopping down on “Best Sportsmanship–Tennis Open 1983” and realizing too late just how sharp those little rackets are, I called up the interior decorator and told her I wanted to stick with the theme of accolades but maybe we needed to find something, well, squishier. It was a shame because I had to send back the couch which was made entirely of small marble Press Club obelisks. I didn’t see any other option.
My relationship with the interior decorator has been a source of some frustration and I do have to say that she was pushing ribbons hard. Ribbons and pennants. I had to slap her around a little because the thing is, when I filled out my comment card upon walking into her store, I circled “no horse or baseball awards.” Sometimes I worry she doesn’t take her job as seriously as I need her to.
Finding a good interior decorator who will outfit your apartment exactly to your liking using only materials meant to celebrate you is more difficult that you’d realize and if you aren’t careful you’ll come home to a roomful of streamers. I could hire monkeys to hang streamers. I know this because once I hired monkeys to hang streamers.
And you know what else? I thank you not to hit a going out of business party store to pick up the materials with which to decorate my apartment because if I come home and it looks like Uncle Sam puked all over my lanai, I’m going to know you looted the July 4 bargain bin.
Yes, I have a lanai. It’s where the parrots live. I think we’ve been through this.
Have we not been through this? I have a small aviary which I inherited from Fred Audubon, no relation. Fred and I interned together on the U.S.S. U.S.S. It was a ship with a not very creative name which was ironic because there was a lot of creativity aboard that vessel. Between my glitter glue and Fred’s pinking shears, well, let’s just say no piece of construction paper was safe around the two of us!
Anyway, I fear I’ve said too much and I’m expecting a shipment of laurel throw pillows any minute now.
