Home Improvement Pros

All this week we've alternated between modes at home. (1) Lazy/tired mode and (2) "WE HAVE GO TO GET THIS HOUSE PRESENTABLE FOR SATURDAY'S SHOWER!!!!!" mode. Yin and yang. So for the 2nd night this week we attempted what most normal people would consider small in the home improvement project world: hanging pictures. But at our house, not only does it require the help of my mother, it also requires a mediator with a divorce attorney on emergency standby. Every time we finish a "project" it feels like we've dodged a bullet in the marital failure department. And each time I think, "I am never doing anything with that incompetent fool again." I need the schedule for the She-Ra lessons at Lowe's. And I need a tool belt, and I need tools that aren't pink. They need to be made by manly companies like Craftsman or Dewault or whatever. Someone should start playing the theme song from a strong woman movie right now. Right now.

Additionally last night I took quite a bit of time putting the yard sale pile o' stuff (culled items as we unpacked and placed in a very conspicuous location) into the world's best hall closet. I mean a lot of time. Leaving only enough room to place the vacuum cleaner right inside the door. Piling stuff onto the box of linens in there in a way that would have made Harry and Marv proud (Home Alone 2 shoutout). And then this morning, as I was getting out of the shower, I realized I needed to put up the new shower curtain liner and the outer shower curtain from the old house. And then in horror I realized the shower curtain was in the box of linens, in the hall closet, now covered in yard sale treasures. But alas, I am a determined girl. I waded in, moved a few things, selected a right foot perch on top of a box containing a marble rolling pin, leaned in dangerously, and began shifting items. Then, when I FINALLY located the shower curtain at the bottom of the damn huge box (of course, why would it be on top?), I had to place my left foot on top of the microwave, lean over precariously, lose the towel turban I am wearing, pull the shower curtain out victoriously, and carefully remove myself from the rubble.

This is what it is like to be me.