The metre-and-a-half wide frame has hung empty above my bed since July. I paid a man to hang it. I'd harboured, to begin with, reservations about how my feminism and my employment of somebody else to execute the job dovetailed awkwardly, but after I hit myself in the face with a hammer one night, not understanding the difference between a nail at 45 degrees into a diving wall and a drill with a spiral anchor into a brick wall, I decided the most feminist act would be, in fact, to use my hard-earned feminist money to feministly delegate somebody better qualified to help me out - who yes, just so happened to be a man. I have never looked back. The room needed something above the bed - that's why I got the frame and had it hung - but I couldn't rush to fill it. It needed to be right. I didn't want a generic Ikea print: they can satisfy the dead area behind the door in the living room because that is a neutral space. Bedrooms - bedrooms must be ...
Ahahahaha! Reminds me of the day me and my teammates in work were discussing what sort of medical supplies we had between us in the office. They were like "I have painkillers", "I have plasters" . . . I said "I have tampons."
ReplyDeleteI'm the only female in a team of six. It was met with an awkward silence...
P- boys don't like to think of 'The Flood'. And it hurts me that that is also the name of Cheryl Cole's new single. Poor boys. x
ReplyDeleteHappens to you, too, eh. Some people are just too precious.
ReplyDeleteIan- aint they just? x
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