that’s going to leave a mark

I’m writing this blog in two parts because I’m pretty sure I’ll be repressing the last 14 days. Sunday, 2 weeks ago (how is that even possible) we decided to clean out the garage. I’d had a lot of stuff on Craigslist and finally a lot of it got out of here without getting murdered in the process. I needed to get the hardtop on the Jeep, and it was located behind all the shit for “sale” and left over building materials. To say the garage was a mess is a HUGE understatement. I should have taken a picture, but that would have left visual evidence and thus hindered my repression. We got one of those dumpster bags (FYI get an actual dumpster it’s cheaper) which I was sure we wouldn’t fill. We did. To the top. While cleaning the mouse ridden garage (pretty sure this was their staging area) I stepped on a board. The board had a nail. A long nail. It went through my shoe and directly into the soft arch place in my foot. Not going to lie, this one was bad. Although if pressed I’m not sure which was worse, the going in or the pulling out. Because when I lifted my foot the board came with it. I had to step on the board and pull my foot off of it. Why is it always my feet? I run with these feet. I was thinking I should probably go get a tetanus shot, but it was Sunday, and let’s be honest lockjaw may be exactly what I need.

The rest of the week was paid work in the morning, reno in the afternoon. Between us, the kids and I had put about 700 holes in the walls of these two rooms. Each had to be filled and sanded. I had wanted to lay the room out differently but in any other configuration I couldn’t look out the window and the huge cork board wall I was building would only fit on one wall. Ben helped me put up the board after I had carefully measured and laid out where it had to be and where the studs were. After he left I realized it wasn’t in the right place. It’s always the math that trips me up. So I took it down and moved it over about seven inches. He’s just learning this now. Now it’s in the “right” place, but it meant more holes. After filling and sanding the new holes and painting trim, windows, baseboards and walls, I was grumpy. But I had to get my office put back together because I had work to do. Plus, I wasn’t functioning well without my Magic 8 ball, it helps me make all my critical decisions.

While I finally had my desk set up, I decided to wait until the morning to screw it together. To begin, I’m not a very clear thinker in the morning. I used to be, and I miss that. So after I burned my hand on my coffee handle (it’s always hot and I always do this) I got started. I’m trying to figure out how to keep this brief…nope can’t do it. The screws are countersunk and there are about 9 of them. The first 2 trips to the basement were to find a screw driver that would fit into the countersink. After carefully lining up the top and the bottom so I didn’t create any more holes, I put the first couple of screws in. They weren’t biting and the top was still loose. Basement (3) – find screws that are fatter. I put the fatter screws in only to find that they weren’t phillips or flat heads. They were squares. What the hell, isn’t it enough to have 2 types of screws, for which you never bring the right screw driver? Basement (4) looked for an allen wrench that fit. Couldn’t find one. Went with brute force (top off, hammer and nail). Basement (5) the quest for fatter screws with correct top. Put in one screw, it worked! Started to put the other eight in when I thought, good things these aren’t too long. Sure as shit, looking across the top of the desk, there was the tip of the screw. More holes! Basement (6) different screws. Through the coffee in the wave to reheat it on my way down. Burned my hand, again, on the way up. I finally had the right screws in the right holes. I needed a drink…it was only 9a.

Next came hanging the rods for the window panels. Basement (7) to find the rods left over from previous project. I used the stud finder (basement 8) to locate (duh) studs. Put my screws in and no studs. Awesome. More holes. Curse repeatedly. Basement (9) Find bigger screws. Find studs. Reposition (More holes). Had a great idea to run a wire like a clothes line to hang paintings on. Used the stud finder. Drilled holes, no studs. More holes. Like most women I realize that my stud finder is clearly not working properly. Basement (10) find wall anchors. Hung the line. Didn’t like it. Took it down. More holes. Basement (11) Get spackle – Fill and sand holes. Repaint.
Mental note: find therapist.

Later that day I went to paint the cabinet. Ben hates it when I paint over wood. Or paint walls white. I don’t understand this. And frankly, today, I don’t care. I was going to paint it black to match the desk, but then decided that white may be better. It wasn’t, so I went to the black. While painting this 500 pound corner cabinet, the paint brush slipped from my grip and went flying. Landing (of course) directly on the newly finished floors. I ran (Basement 12) to get a rag, and frantically cursed and cleaned. Finished, I stood up and BAM hit my head on the open cabinet door. I grew nostalgic for any injury previous to this and wished I had lockjaw.

The next day I took a break from projects, because frankly, things weren’t going well for me. I’m starting to wonder if I can finish this house before I’m seriously hurt as opposed to just injured. I was raking my leaves like a good citizen, wondering why my neighbors didn’t come pick up the ones that were clearly theirs (how rude!) when I found the hose beneath all the leaves. Thinking I had the right “end” I yanked. Turns out the hose was wound around two tables. The first table (metal) flew up and landed on the second table (wood) and knocked it over breaking two of the legs off table and shattering two large pots on top and one under. directly onto the cement patio. There I was, standing in dog poo with a hole in my foot and a lump on my head, that It’s official. I’m one of the 3 Stooges. Not sure that it matters which one, none of them are a good look.

NEXT WEEK: The finished rooms. I have no choice, company on Saturday.