But none of you would do that, right? :) And if you think it's ever okay to do so, this is where you go ahead and take me off your flist and we just call it a day, fair and square.
Having said that, I would like to direct your attention to this Murphy bed made out of a PIANO. Guys, I won't lie, this hurts me. Background info: I grew up the daughter of a piano tuner/repair man. My father is a member of a dying breed of artisans, no lie. We always had a few pianos in the house as he worked on varying stages of their rebuilding, and I spent countless hours in the summer (or after school) helping my dad rebuild the actions. (When you hit a key, a series of levers and hammers activate to hit the string. I had the glorious job of using an ancient steam iron and nasty old rag that held decades of old glue within its fibers to loosen the glue that held the felt that cushioned the hammers that sat in the butt that housed the dampers that lived in the house that Jack built.)
My sister, Dampersnspoons (hey, there's where the name is from! *g*) actually helps him
LASTLY! Holy sheep dung, I made a "faux mashed potato" last night that I was sure no one would like, but I had to try. And guess what? It was CRAZY DELICIOUS. Also, my son didn't realize it wasn't potatoes. The secret? Actual human brains. Just kidding, it was cauliflower. ( Quit scrolling, this was delicious! OKAY, OKAY, IT HAS BUTTER, ARE YOU GOING TO CLICK NOW?Collapse )
I have to go to Sam's and buy apocalypse portions of toilet paper today. Why? Because I'm an American, that's why. (Lol, I have space and a teen boy with friends that evidently eat a lot of cheese. Gross.) <-- I never said I was classy. It was SASSY. They rhyme, I get why you'd be confused.