How's The Weather Up Here? It Sucks.

If you look in the picture you'll see a portion of my Mother's apartment, the small room directly in front of the bathroom. You may also notice the enormous brass Decapitator she's hung from the ceiling.

I'm not standing on a chair. That's how high it is. And when pressed, my Mother will shrug, as if she did everything she could within the constraints posed by the height of the ceiling.

"The problem is it can't go up any further..." I agree: there is a problem, but it isn't up, Mom. If there's one thing you should do with this f**king chandelier it's take it down.

But no. She likes it. And why not?

Why sacrifice Danger for Style? Why not hang something that gores eyeballs fresh from the skull of your son from the ceiling? Did the Ninja clash? The wolverine too gaudy? Were the Heppelwhite Side Cabinets too difficult to rig so that they would swing down on ropes and crush me if I didn't use a coaster?

Or were all of those too obvious. You painted the chandelier white. It hangs from a white ceiling that sits atop 4 white walls. Know why you can't see a polar bear? It's called CAMOFLAGE. Know why I can't see? Because I bashed my effing face into your light.