We’re remodeling the bathroom.
This was fun, like, 2 months ago. It is not fun now.
However, Benjamin is a prince, and is going to try to get the bathroom sink, with it’s new vanity, functioning before we have the most awesome of all house guests arrive – The Cousins & Posse. It’s gonna be amazeballs, but social niceties might become a little strained over a 10 day visit if there’s only one working sink in the whole damn house.
So Benjamin gave me a list of stuff to pick up at the local home improvement store. A very short list that I thought I could handle. They label their shit right? How hard could it be??
First of all, I would just like to say that jumbling hose clamps together on a shelf and just providing general ranges for the size hose they might fit – without actually making sure each box contains the same size of hose clamp – is helping no one. You complete bastards.
Also, it just so happens that I know how to use band snips, and if your employees fail to open the bundle of hardibacker concrete board thingies that I need to get into, then it just so happens that I will hunt down the pair of snips your miscreant lackeys left lying around and open the damn thing myself. Because I couldn’t find anyone to help me. You market this as a place for Do-It-Yourselfers. Guess what? You just met their mom. So suck it.
Then, THEN – I get my 3×5 hardibacker board thingy out to the Honda Accord.
AND IT DOESN’T FIT. It is 2 inches too long to fit in the backseat. I try rolling down the windows. I try folding the front seats forward. I try the trunk. I try folding the back seat down and going through the trunk. I try standing it up long-way in the front seat. I try sliding it over the tops of all the seats. Nada friends, absolutely no progress.
This is officially getting exponentially more frustrating, I now have 3 car doors open, I’m sweaty, pissed off, and my phone just dinged a text at me and I have no effing clue where it is.
So, I fold the passenger seat forward. I scoot the driver’s seat all the way to the steering wheel. I roll down the rear driver’s side window, and I remove the headrest from the front passenger seat. I stand at a 45 degree angle to the car, and I come running full tilt from the rear passenger side and jam that mother for all I’m worth with elbows, shoulders, knees, gut and hips. This is what I’m left with:
So I send Benjamin this message:
“How important is this corner?”
To which he responds, “I can work around it”.
Right-O Captain!! I grab my brand spankin’ new 8″ tactical survival knife from the front seat, which just so happens to have the tactical-survival-knife-equivalent of a drywall saw on one side, and I start hacking at the hell beast. And I’m getting approximately nowhere when the corner – where I’m not cutting – just breaks. And then my knife breaks the other corner. I’m pretty sure this small victory was an accident. Well? At least I’m done. So I go to shut the car door, and the door STOPS, ONE BLOODY INCH from latching.
This is the point where my last damn nerve was pressed upon in a most heinous fashion. So I yell, “YOU F–KING BITCH” and punch the hardibacker board. In the home improvement store parking lot. Next to a soccer mom van. And also, apparently, next to a tiny man in a tiny suit, who is quickly crossing to the other side of the parking lot. To soothe him, I call out, “Oh hiiiiiii, gettin’ hot out here isn’t it??” And fan my face as if I were just possessed by Miss Vivien Leigh herself, to show I’m a lady with manners and whatnot. Then I resumed punching the concrete slab in my backseat. I think he felt better about the whole thing, I know I did.
So I get home with this bane of my existence. I inform Benjamin he’ll just have to make do with a 3×4 piece of hardibacker board, and honestly, no one likes things that are exactly 5 feet long anyway. I have improved upon the long-standing model. To suit our modern times. And Honda. It’s a miracle of physics really.
Time for a beer y’all.
~ J ~