The inner sanctum

I promised you something less depressing after yesterday's post. I've promised you pictures of my domestic handiwork in tons of earlier posts. And I've blathered on and on about how cool my bedroom and bathroom look now that I've finally made some damn decisions about paint colors and wall decorations.

It's about time I pooped or got off the pot, ya think?

So here, without further ado, is a photo of the new arrangement of wall crap over my bed. As is the case with most of my home-improvement projects, it's still a work in progress; the knickknacks on the shelves still aren't finalized and that gaping hole in the bottom left of the arrangement is just waiting for me to discover the elusive pièce de résistance that will complete my vision of artistry and self-expression that nobody will see anyway because my bedroom is apparently sprayed with Man Repellant every day by a naked and slightly sweaty John Ashcroft.

Do note the cool candle shelves, though. They were made by my amazingly handy ex, Jeff, and creatively finished by yours truly with metallic stencil paint. Although an arrangement of candles over a bed does give off a certain reptilian sexual-predator vibe. Not that anyone will see it.

(And the bed frame, for those of you who are interested, is the Room & Board Parsons model. And I LOVE IT. It's sleek and elegant and well-built and it doesn't rock or creak or slam against the wall or make any noise whatsoever when you're hopped up on cocaine and airplane glue and banging hookers into next week on it.)

I'll stop typing now. Enjoy the picture: