Sadly, I Am No Longer Awesome.

I spilled half a pint of high-gloss black enamel paint on the carpet yesterday evening.  It was tragic. My mind cringes because the recollection itself is bitter, like the taste of burnt garlic.  Which is much better than the smell of black enamel paint soaking into your apartment carpet, when what you really wanted to do was go get some cheap pizza and sing in the car the whole way there.

The pizza and the rockin' car ride never happened because it takes hours to unpaint the carpet.  I'm starting to think this was a really complicated way to get Kid to buy us new bath towels.