A How-To for Storage-Strapped Shoe Addicts

Brace yourselves, boys and girls. Get your hard hats and band-aids ready. It’s time to bust out the power tools and do some DIY.

Since I recently (ok, so not-so-recently at this point, but you get the idea) moved into my new place, I figured what better way to make it my own than to get my hands dirty with some DIY projects. Plus who likes a standard-issue “vintage” apartment anyway? In the days of Pinterest: no one. Especially me.

First up: Adding some much-needed storage.

I’m a shoe whore. Always have been. Always will be. Don’t get me wrong, I’m nowhere near as bad as my aunt (she had my uncle turn a spare guest room into an extra closet for her shoes – you go Aunt Melissa!) but I have everything from running shoes to wingtips and from rain boots to ridiculously-uncomfortable-yet-super-cute leopard print loafers. God forbid they be homeless, but when you live in a studio finding a home for them is definitely much easier said than done.

Especially once you’ve already maxed out your under-bed storage with off-season clothing and shoes and other stuff that just needs a home. Out of sight, out of mind.

Always up for a good DIY project, I’d seen this project on Pinterest that looked like it’d have a relatively low chance of ending up as an epic Pinterest fail. Easy peasy. I could do this. Bring it on. Continue reading

Not-So-Common Sense

Being as my mother is one of the smartest ladies I know, it boggles my mind as to how it’s humanly possible that I didn’t inherit every last bit of her intelligence and common sense. Take, for instance, this recent situation as a prime example of why common sense is not so common in my case.


Setting: 3 Months Ago, My Bedroom
Characters: Me, Myself, and I

Having crashed with a couple friends and living Harry-Potter-style in a cupboard/closet under the stairs (quite like Not-so-Carrie‘s dear friend Carlos) for two weeks, I’d finally found my own place and driven a 16′ long moving truck 545 miles across the Midwest (plus 4 miles driven by my drag-queen-with-a-CDL-license friend who I picked up after having volunteered to drive the rest of the way and back the truck up to the unloading door at my condo) to my new home in Chicago.

Here I was, all alone on a Tuesday evening, unpacking my life from the boxes I’d taken from my former company’s stash of free moving boxes (which I later proceeded to turn a $25 profit on thanks to a crafty Craigslist posting). I unpack my ever-so-carefully-packed $10/each IKEA lamps and sit them on my nightstands and plug them into the extension cords required to allow them to reach my inconveniently installed plug outlet behind my bed. Continue reading