COMPELLING EVIDENCE THAT MY MO-THER IS INDEED A COMPLETE AND TOTAL DOOFUS, BY MASTER STEWEY ANGUS WILLOWSWAMP, HIS VERY LITTLE SELF

My mom can't come to the blog right now.  She's out in the driveway batting her eyelashes at the landscapers in a feeble attempt at old lady flirting.  This in itself wouldn't be so bad (I mean, after all, a spinster's gotta do what a spinster's gotta do), but the visual is almost more than I can bear.

Rather than showering and dressing like a normal human person, my idiot mo-ther decided that a Hanes clearance bin t-shirt and a pair of eighteen year old sweatpants would be perfectly acceptable attire for "putzing" about the house today.  Never mind the fact that it's a full 90 degrees outside.  Nor am I completely thrown by the selection of the t-shirt and it's somewhat odd color.  (Is it puce?  Olive green?  Why does it change colors so in the sunlight?)

No, what's bothering me is the fact that the old lady couldn't have taken an extra two minutes in the bath this morning to drag a razor across the vast expanse of whiteness that is her lower shins.  I get the fact that a woman of her proportions doesn't necessarily have to (or want to) be bikini ready.  (I mean, who in the world would want to see THAT particular hot mess anyway?)  But don't you think it reasonable to assume that if your legs are going to stick out of the bottoms of your eighteen year old sweatpants, the least you can do is make sure that they are relatively stubble free?

Despite her horrifying appearance, the landscapers were bearing up OK and were chatting amiably with her right up to the point that she said (and I quote): "Man, Joan Crawford's got nothing on you fellas".

The resulting awkward silence prompted my mo-ther to explain that the reference is to the movie Mommie Dearest, in which Ms. Crawford (as she is portrayed by a heavily shoulder-padded and eye-browed Faye Dunaway), goes positively bat shit in the garden one evening and proceeds to hack everything to death while wearing a ball gown.  This scene is one of Mo-ther and Aunt Chrissy's favorites, and every time either of them attempt any type of shrubbery trimming, they feel compelled to call one another and shout into the telephone "CHRISTINA!  BRING ME THE AX!".

But I digress.....

While Mom's out there trying to get her peri-menopausal groove on, I decided to take matters into my own hands here inside Chez Spinster to spruce the joint up a bit.  The Big White Wall of Nothingness was really starting to depress me with its tired Spring theme, and I noticed that several of the pieces in the collection were looking a little worse for wear.  Additionally...the fake flowers in the form of spring blossoms were also looking a little shabby, so it was time for a change.  Here's the result:

I'm sure, if pressed, I could find the names and designers of all of the pieces that are hanging here, but I assume that you will just want to know how I managed to reach high enough to get everything hung properly.  Well, I'm happy to report that my lovely new friend Daphne gave me a little boost up onto her back, and she was able to stand perfectly still while I hammered away.  You might remember that Daphne is my new little baby deer friend.  She's fawn-colored, has enormous brown eyes, and she pees on everything in sight.  Just like me.  I'm auditioning her for the role of my personal assistant, and if we can work out the profit sharing and health care packages, you might see more and more of my creative endeavors here in the future.

For now, though, I'm just excited to see the look on Mom's face when she sees the drapes.

I hope that your Thursday is everything you wish it to be.  Until we meet again, I remain your loyal and devoted friend.

With love from your pal,
Stewey