Farewell Lindsey Adelman DIY Chandelier.
It’s not you, it’s me. I swear.
I’m not a one lamp kind of girl.
You are bright and brassy and great, but it was time and you’ve moved on to a better and more exciting life. Let’s stay in touch, OK?
(moment of silence)
Now that that awkwardness is behind us, lets focus on the reality of living for months without a dining room light- a situation that becomes darkly apparent as I repeatedly flip the switch in an absentminded attempt to brighten the room up. The shame of being so dumbly forgetful in that moment rushes over me in a hot tidal wave of crrraaaapppp.
After the DIY Adelman’s abrupt departure, I started courting some big brutalist chandeliers in a frustrating game where I’m desperate and they all play hard to get. Three great ones slipped away from me on the old eBay for just DOLLARS while the next potential beast was a ‘sure thing’ until the dealer who’d agreed to a certain arrangement sold it out from under me. Coincidentally, during the week I thought the brutal deal was done, I stumbled on the last and final stabby brass monster which I shortsightedly turned down. Since having two of these things seemed way to bourgie?
Suck it, lamp. I’m burnt out on chasing the elusive brutal dream.
Break my heart one too many times and I won’t go back. And really, when am I going to get over this brutal phase? Soon? Probably soon.
Nevertheless, H.F.N.D.R.L ’12 (AKA Hunt For a New Dining Room Light) has entered phase two…in which I sort of look around and consider other lights. Edge of your seat shit, I know, but that big ugly hole is mocking me as I endlessly flip the switch in my spooky dining room. Obviously, life is incredibly rough. Boo hoo. I need a chandelier.
Bourgie to the max.