Almost a year ago, I wrote an article entitled 'Cleaning house with Britney.” It was a piece about maturity, growth, and the unattainable. But mostly it was about cleaning my dump of an apartment and marveling at a Pepsi commercial.

Since that time, much has happened. Yep, get out your crayons and color me George Jefferson, 'cuz I've moved on up. That's right brothers and sisters; I've abandoned Munjoy Hill on a quest for better living on the western side of Portland.

This apartment (the haunted one) has been beautiful, roomy, and disgusting all at the same time. My lovely view of everything that's wrong with Portland (Longfellow square) has been marred by a torn tapestry, liberated from an ex-lover, that hangs so flaccidly in my beautiful (dirty) windows.

Also, I have no idea where I got my sheets. Not a clue. My blanket has had another life of being a painter's drop cloth. I've never questioned that, or where I actually got it; it's just kept me warm. And for life skills, I can cook… kind of. That's about it. That is the one skill is what has made me self sufficient and self-deprecating over the years.

But recently, something happened. Something snapped in me. I don't know if it has been the many looks of disgust that I've received from women who see my place for the first time, or the fact that family members faint upon entry, or that um, well, the fact that I just may be, perhaps, um, growing up.

Good Gawd! Yes, it's true. I'm growing up. I decided that this place needed some rehab. But, I needed help. My pop Sumner awoke me one noon on a Sunday via car phone, and still in my drunken haze, I professed to him my need to hang curtains. Army dude Sumner then asked if I was dating men. My garbled Corona throat spewed back; “No, I'm growing up.”

Suddenly, we got disconnected. Seems that my epiphany caused Sumner to pass out at the wheel. Magically, no one was hurt, though his chest was a bit tight, and his left arm was a bit numb for the remainder of the day. Other than that, everything was peaches.

Sumner volunteered to help, so off we went to the Home Depot. Measurements in hand, Dad and son Kinney were off to bond. It may have been a bit closer had I not had such bad gas and a smoking habit.

We started to look at different shades, their options, prices and what not, and by this time, my upscale apartment mojo started to recede. I turned to head to the truck for a nap, when a cute curtain honey arrived to cut some shades for me.

“What can I do for you?” She said ever so seductively in a retail kind of way.

Hormones dominating, I responded; “Well, I'll tell you what I'd like… I'd li-

“Hold up young grasshopper” Sumner interjected. “There's work to be done.”

As if this girl could find my apathetic incompetence moderately attractive this early in the afternoon. Besides, I could barely see her through my glassy eyes and the methane clouds. It was nothing short of Hangar 18 with a hangover.

Everyone accomplishes all tasks but me, and we take the goods home. Sumner hangs the shades and I smoke, and ponder the meaning of sleep. He's lost hope of me ever being a handy man, until a problem arises.

Seems that Sumner misjudged a measurement on one of the shades, causing one to be approximately three quarters of an inch too short. Hell bent on returning it and making a wrong right, he insisted we head back to the mall. Having met my quota for human interaction for the day, I suggested that it was time for Sumner to give up on the beating and tag me in. He reluctantly complied, and I clasped my imaginary tool belt, and confidently asserted the task at hand, waiting for the applause from all the Hulkamaniacs.

My grandfather rolled in his grave as I diligently climbed the milk crate and assessed the situation. I rolled up some cardboard, placed it on the wall, grabbed some nails, closed my eyes, and started to swing that hammer like it was my full time job.

With Sumner unconscious on the floor, I hung the shades perfectly, and the black lace curtains too. Granted, if you pull the curtains away, it looks like a hackneyed home improvement gone painfully wrong, but who cares? I'm styling.

I went out and bought some hot red matching sheets and bed set too. It reflects nicely off of my beer lights, and Dusty the lava lamp. I'm also in the market for a new sofa, if anybody can help, that would be nice. Sumner would, but he is at the courts trying to find out if I'm actually his son.