incandragon

If I were Empress of The Old Sayings, things would be different. Cake could be had and eaten (although not eaten and had), we'd get that whole "no love lost" thing straightened out, and nothing would ever fall between a crack.

At the moment, my pet peeve is "Money can't buy happiness." If I were TEotOS, it would wither beneath the harsh light of truth. As it is, I can only quibble:

Money buys Elfa shelving.

What more needs to be said? In my world, Elfa shopping is as close to buying happiness as no nevermind.

One of my favorite people, The Other M, is eliminating her household clutter to a degree normally seen only prior to selling a house. She and I find savage glee in reclaiming space, and this weekend I lay seige to my pantry and won. Plastic bottles that had imploded around mysterious oils were tossed. A bucketful of jars were harvested and consigned to the recycling bin. Mystery spices, vinegars that had developed delicate floating placentas, food that had long ago glued itself to the shelf ... all were discarded.

What was fresh and edible were given harbor as I "had my man" smash out the pressboard shelves and I bought adjustable shelf gizmos that promised that here and forward, I would know what was in my pantry ... and maybe actually eat it.

Money buys puppies, emergency surgery, and Elfa ... and that's good enough in my book.