when it sounds like the world's ending

So let me give you a brief insight into my room. My room, not unlike my apartment, is very small.

Now, I am ok with small spaces. In fact, I like and even prefer small spaces. But we're talking small. Like mini-me small. Like Polly's Playhouse small. Like, when people come over (I say people as if we can fit more than one person), they don't ask for tours of the apartment, they just say "Oh," or, "Wow, it really is small," or, my favorite, "You pay how much for what?"

Today, I got a thingie stuck in my door that let me know [courtesy of my super realty company that I think is run by people with the combined IQ of, I don't know, Animal from "Muppet Babies," or a celery stalk] that I had to have my fire escape cleared as per NYC law. I'm thinking, what fire escape? Oh, you mean the fork-sized piece of iron that sits underneath my Polly Princess excuse for a window? That? As if something could fit on it? Jesus.

Meanwhile, in real-people-land, I'm sitting in my tiny apartment bedroom. I have learned to navigate this space expertly. My bookshelf and my dresser (which barely fit, let me tell you) enclose about a 3-foot wide space in which I dress, or walk around. Sometimes, when I'm feeling really stressed, I pace up and down the 3 feet of my room and I feel a lot better. Or I let my legs hang off the bed and swing them a little bit.

So, something you need to know. My room was originally inhabited by a boy. Whoever this boy was, I should probably meet him, because he is a freaking genius. He must have been a full-time subscriber to Pottery Barn Small Spaces because this fool lined the entire wall with shelves. He is so smart, he should be the one running my stupid realty company. I bet if he did, they'd get our rent right at least once and stop charging us insane random amounts every month, as if to imply that they can actually add and subtract numbers.

So, these shelves, they don't actually hold all that much. And you know, shoes - even my shoes, and I'm no Carrie Bradshaw - they take up a lot of room. Shoes equal a downgrade. But you need shoes, because otherwise people get concerned about you if you're walking around all barefoot and stuff. So I bought this sweet shoe rack at KMart, thinking, man, I'm so smart to buy this shoe rack at KMart that hangs on my door (which looks not unlike the door to the steering cabin on a ship). I thought to myself, "you are going to save SO MUCH SPACE."

Every day, my door rack falls. Every goddamn day. I tell you no lies. I don't know if it's a space issue, or if my door shoe rack is just really stressed, or what, but the last bar ALWAYS COMES UNDONE. Say someone needs me and comes in my room, bam, the shoe rack falls. I come in my room too fast one day, boom, it falls. Every day. Sometimes when I'm sleeping it falls and I get a goddamn heart attack.

It sounds like the world ending. All my shoes come crashing down. Along with my hopes and dreams of saving space.

Ok, I admit, I haven't fallen down the stairs or anything lately, but when G just came in to tell me something fairly normal, the shoe rack f-ing fell again and I wanted to kill it, if it were real. I want to write Martha Stewart and let her know that her stupid shoe rack doesn't make my room look any cooler or more put together but in fact adds to the general disorder of life.

Way to go Martha. Bitch.