Today was one of those days… I woke up thinking I was going to get a chance to jump into my writing with both feet. My better half went in to work for several hours, and I had decided to get straight to work on Chucklers. By the time I woke up around 9AM, my wife had already been at work a few hours. What can I say? I’m a lazy bum.
So I got up, got in the shower… and that was about the last thing that went right for me for the next several hours.
Getting out of the shower, I accidentally kicked the threshold at the bottom of the shower door. You know the one that has the little rubber gasket to keep the shower from leaking all over the floor while you’re in there splashing around? Well, I kicked it hard enough to leave it hanging by a tiny string of double-stick tape, which is evidently how they put the stupid things on.
Now, if you read my blog post from yesterday, you know that we’re in the midst of trying to sell the house. Last night we received a showing request for tomorrow morning, and that meant that I HAD to repair the thing today.
I went ahead and removed the thing the rest of the way, took it to the local hardware big box store to see if they could help me, and found a very helpful gentleman in the plumbing area who explained to me how they are attached, and how to go about repairing it. Yeah, he was helpful right up to the point where he pointed out how old the rubber was on the gasket that was attached to the metal threshold… and then proceeded to rip a section to shreds to prove his point. And of course, he didn’t have the proper gasket to replace it with in the store.
So now I have a threshold that I kicked loose from the shower door, a rubber gasket that is partially ripped off of the threshold, and I am even farther away from repairing the door than I was when I walked into the store.
Went to a total of five hardware stores and one glass specialty store before I (hopefully) found a solution. Got back home after more than three hours of searching and got a call from my wife letting me know that she was on her way home, and wanting to know if I would like to go to lunch with her. “Sure, I should be able to get the door repaired by the time you make it home.”
I should have known better.
So I spent some time cleaning the shower door where I would have to reattach the threshold, then took the old threshold out into the garage so I wouldn’t get the bathroom dirty while I cleaned the old gunk off of it. As I was beginning to clean the threshold, I got a text on the phone. It was another request to see the house. And the appointment was less than an hour away.
Now, I know I told my wife that I should be able to put the thing together in a short time, but between the pressure of someone coming to see the house, and the way that Murphy had been screwing with me, I was more than a little worried about getting in the middle of the repairs and having something else go wrong. So I called my wife, explained my concerns and we decided to simply leave the threshold off of the shower door until after the showing.
She got home, we did a quick pick up through the house, packed Bella and Cricket into the car, and vacated the premises. Things seemed to be going great for a while. We hit a barbecue drive-through for lunch and took the girls to the local park. We got back home after the appointment, and I finally got the threshold repaired.
The other project I was going to tackle was a crack in the wall above the door of one of the upstairs bedrooms. Not a big deal, but over the course of thirteen or fourteen years, a house tends to settle a bit. My wife had patched the crack while I was repairing the shower, and after a while it was ready for the texture. Our house has that orange peel texture that is so common, and it’s only in the last year or so that I’ve learned to do a halfway decent job of matching it. So after she had patched and sanded the crack, I came upstairs and sprayed the texture over the area, blending it relatively well with the rest of the wall.
Violà! We were finally finished with the day’s projects. But Murphy wasn’t quite finished toying with us yet.
We decided that after all the fun of the day, we deserved a bit of a break. We were kicked back, sitting in the living room downstairs, just relaxing for a bit when I commented to my wife that I must have the fumes of the texture on me or in my nose because I can still smell it. But she could smell it too, and it was pretty strong. We realized that we couldn’t leave that smell permeating the house. We have another showing tomorrow morning. (sigh)
So my wife has a pot that she puts on the stove before a showing. (Bear with me, this is relevant, I promise!) In that pot she mixes water, cloves and cinnamon, and perhaps a few herbs or something. I honestly don’t know everything she puts in it, I just call it “smell-gooder”. All I know is that I love the way the house smells when she puts that pot on to boil.
So she put the pot on, and soon the chemical fumes of the texture are drowned out by the pleasant aroma from the kitchen. By that time, it was nearly 5:30 and I went up to my office to do a little writing. About an hour later the house began to smell again, but with a different odor this time. She had forgotten that she had put the smell-gooder on the stove, and it had completely boiled away and begun to fill the kitchen with smoke!
She got the pot into the sink, and the crisis was averted, (although she’s afraid she may have ruined one of the nice pans left to her by her mother). But here I am, wondering what I did to deserve Murphy’s attention today. It was supposed to have been a nice, relaxing day of writing and a few minor projects. Instead, it was one mess up after another.
I think I’m going to send Murphy a letter asking him to let me know when my next appointment with him might be. Whenever it is, I think I’ll just pull the blanket up over my head and sleep through the day. That way I can’t screw anything up.
So avoid Murphy, folks. And stay safe!