or cry
I told my best friend earlier this week, that I didn’t know how to write the blog without pissing people off or blathering on like an incoherent idiot (like that’s new). Her solution was that I don’t write and just put up pictures. More great advice that I seem to be only partially able to follow (see random pictures).
What the Hell is that Smell?
Occasionally when I get completely overwhelmed I’m forced to play a little game called “What the Hell is that Smell.” This games board is always in the kitchen and never any fun for me. And the prize at the end is always disgusting. This week was the super deluxe bonus grand prize of a dead and starting to decompose mouse under the stove. I was the bonus prize because when I tried to pick it up, it split into two pieces. It’s official, I’m completely traumatized. Interestingly enough, this is the least of my therapeutic issues. At it turns out I have bigger mental health fishes to fry. As do the few of you who requested to see “the toe.” So I no longer want to clean my house, I now have to clean my house. As is anyone would ever come over here again. Because when is there ever ONE mouse?
What Do You Mean It Doesn’t Fit?
The size and location of the fireplace was based mostly on the Ikea cabinets that I was going to us to house the electronics and other stuff. Said cabinets were 47 5/8″ wide. The fireplace width was figured by the following quasi-mathematical equation (remember: I don’t do math). Width of room – width of cabinets x 2 (round up to 48″) equals width of fireplace. Ha Sucker! It didn’t fit. Why me? Now I’m pissed – I took out the baseboard, moved the electrical outlet (yes, I turned off the power, you only have to forget to do that once!) and I tilted, struggled, swore and “persuaded” – read hammered – until the base was in. Next I drilled the hole in the side for the cables to go through, then a hole in the bottom for the Direct TV cable, a hole in the side for the electrical to go through, then cut an opening for the wall plug, and a hole for the electrical cord. How many holes am I going to put in this stupid cabinet. NOTE: there is a reason it was only $80. I started to put the glass doors on and, of course, they didn’t fit. Not because I measured wrong, but because we bought the wrong size. IKEA – the only store where you need to leave a trail of crumbs to find your way out of. Why did I quit smoking?
Fisherman’s Beard?
I picked up some new paint to replace the blue. But – it was too ordinary. So I mixed my own. Khaki with the blue of previous color and Voila’ the perfect color. I’m calling it Fisherman’s Beard. I should work for Sherwin Williams. Plus the rug is down and perfect in all it’s Scooby Doo glory.
Why Isn’t There Any Cake?
I don’t know what it is with men and televisions. When I suggested that we get a smaller TV Ben looked as if I just told him to we were going to start living without toilet paper. Disgusted and horrified. Between us we found a most excellent compromise at a great price. NOT wider than the fireplace (I win) but not smaller (He wins). BONUS: it’s made by an American company (mostly). The next “discussion” was about how high to hang it. I wanted it low, He wanted it high. Once again math returns as a demon to torment me. We decide to go mostly with his height (mostly because I just didn’t have the strength to continue) but failed to measure the length of the TV to insure that the holes for the wires don’t show. They showed. And it’s too high. Measure twice, drill ONCE! Now we have four holes in the stone, a hole showing, and my neck hurts from looking up. Okay, I wanted to cry and now I am seriously pissed. But it’s only fair I suppose. I DID put the shower handle up too high. I guess that makes us even. The next day we drilled new holes, filled the wrong holes (they are behind the TV) and you can barely see them. I still would have liked it lower, but it’s done. It works. It fits. I’m done. How is this stupid room not done yet?
Who the Hell are You?
Most of the comments I get on this site are people trying to sell me stuff or promote their stuff. And because I occasionally (why don’t I know how to spell that word!) use questionable language, some of their stuff is stuff I don’t want to know about. But this week I got a comment from a reader, who I don’t know, about my writing. Briefly, said reader, commented that I constantly whined about things that could be easily fixed. While this may be true, I don’t take advice or candy from strangers, asshole. Up until now I thought that my audience (assuming I had one) were people who knew me. And if they didn’t like what I was writing, would just stop reading. Or just look at the pictures. It never occurred to that someone would take the time to write to me to say I suck. I figured it would be like me and Jerry Springer – I don’t write to him to tell him that his show gives a showcase to the basest of humans – I just don’t watch. But as in life little miracles happen. A day later I got a card from my Dad. A real card, in his own handwriting (not email) about how much he enjoys reading my ramblings and how he read this article about a woman who started writing a blog and then wrote a published some books. He thought I might be interested, because he likes my writing, and she was a late bloomer. He also sent one of her books and the article. I may have had limitations and troubles in my life. But lack of love and support hasn’t been one of them. I’ve always thought that life is always in balance, even if you aren’t. That while I may come up short in some areas, my parents, children, family, and friends make up the difference and create a perfect balance, for me.
IN OUR NEXT EPISODE: This room completed – by any means necessary.