Monday, August 13, 2012

Episode four: Moving the shelves

As I took down all the items on our shelves to pack them, the old shelves wheezed and sighed and creaked at the joints. They came into our marriage already 8 years old. They are now somewhere in the neighborhood of 19 years old. They are pressed wood and GIANT 6 large shelves sold at bi-mart eons ago. I brought four of them into the marriage.

The two units in the house are now bowed and a bit saggy about the mid section. (heh, not unlike me) They will get reassembled after the move and live on to house our games and dvds and library.

The two that lived for the past 10 1/2 years in the garage didn't weather the time so well. They simply will need the bottom foot of them cut off, its been damaged, then they will go into the kids rooms to house all there treasures.

So that is where the great shelfing drama began.

Old wize Me: (standing over the pile of dismantled shelfing units in the garage.) Just borrow a saw and do it yourself. Geeze woman you have the know how. It will take 5 minutes.

The Me who never listens to old wize Me: (eyes lighting up) we should buy a saw and do it ourselves!! That way we don't have to return it!

Wize Me: you want to buy a saw that we will use to cut FOUR boards???!!!! are you crazy! how is that cost effective?

Logical Parental Me butting in: You can use the saw to teach JUR power tool safety.

Irresponsible Me: AND WE CAN SAW UP ALL SORTS OF STUFF!! WhooHOO!! I love power tools!!

at this point Old wize me. Suggested simply replacing the old shelves. And we went out and looked /priced ones that could match the size space of my old four. There exsits nothing under a billion dollers out there. At that point I started looking at power saws.

Now this may come as a suprise to you, but I am not like most women. I love tools. I loved to play with my Dad tools when I was a child and when I was older had my own collection of tools. All of which I left on the farm so LW and JEH could use them. I amassed the giant collection because the hinge broke off of Nibbons stall door.

Grandma and I drove down to the hardware store to get a replacement hinge and the tools and the smell of the fresh lumber rendered me into a pile of quivering jello. "oh 2 x 4's how I love thee..."

We came home with a hinge, new latch, a couple of 2 x 4's and a power drill.

I used my old hammer to claw off the broken nail and a small splinter of the door jam broke off.

"well that JUST great!" I muttered tounge in cheek "we should just build a new barn."

I looked back at Grandma expecting her to laugh at me. She was staring at me with eyebrows raised. "I was thinking the same thing!"

So we did just that. A huge barn done all in 3/4 inch plywood. 3 stalls, with grooming walkway and full sized hay room. (I should point out we only had two horses LOL) Its a thing of beauty!

To replace a broken stall hinge it cost us $6000.00....and I aquired even more tools.

What I am saying here is...someone had better stop me before the cost to repair my shelves reaches $1,000. LOL.

I have a saw now....with extra cool multiple cutting surface blades. I have kept myself in check and not gotten crazy. I resisted the tempation to get the giant table saw as a back up.

Tonight I took the kids to Harbor Freight (tool outlet store aka HEAVEN) so we could get safety googles. I figured they could keep me in check.

Yeeeaaaah, they were a big help.

JUR: MAMA! we need these 4 foot bolt cutters!

Hansolo: I MUST HAVE THIS RAINBOW COLORED SOCKET SET!! AND I WANT WHAT EVER THIS IS HERE!! (hold up some tool aliens use for probing)

Me: (as gently as I can) kids we can't buy those things...if we did there would be no room in the truck for this drill press and hydrolic pressure washer and this 125 pis vertial air compressor!!
Traveling Wilburies

(an unsent email that never got finished)

So my stress level has set new height records. My anxiety has morphed into a beast all its own and should be paying rent as its living here 24/7. In my job the last week of the month is like cram night before finals. Its full of non-bending deadlines and unforgiving hours for days on end. I usually cease doing house work during this time frame due to the fact there is no time so such nonsense. The house then decays into early neanderthal frat house condition. Which fix on the first of each month, when all the deadlines have been met.

I noticed something odd last week as I did my work, parented, stressed and looked for a place for us. The house was staying clean.

 In my fragile mental health you would think, I would be thankful for this quiet miracle.


 I immediently grilled the most likely suspects.

 storming into the kitchen I found them at the table playing quietly.

"Are you doing the dishes and keeping the laundry up!!" I demanded to the ants.

 Nope wasn't them.

It would take some work but I eventually figured out what was causing this phenomen. It was simple due to the fact the house is packed, nothing to get messed up its all in boxes. And the laundry decrease is the result of the annual spring time occurance of JUR placing on a good pair of pants that cover his socks in the morning and them coming home from school a foot taller and his pants now 3 inches above his socks and both knees ripped out for that YOU WOULDN'T LIKE ME WHEN I'M ANGRY Dr David Banner aka the Hulk look. Less to wash if you have to throw it out!

 But I digress...this story begins on the 29th of April. That day was my massive crunch day at work. A no hold bar knock down thunderdome giter-DUN! day. A day I frequently work 10-12 hours. Well with everything going on I was prepaired and had a good handle on it. I was delighting in the fact I was far enough ahead I would be able to sqeeze in trip to the property mangement and inquire about some rentals I saw posted the night before.

 Then my boss called.

(On Easter Sunday our facility got a rather rotten egg in our basket...heh. The state survey team showed up for the yearly week long survey.)

 She grilled me on a part of my job and then informed me the State says I am doing it wrong.

I calmly and rationally thought about this. Weighing the pros and cons.

Medicare prison vs looking for a rental....hmmmm. I have to tell you, going to medicare prison for fraud was looking mighty inviting!
After making me worried and nauseated-er I got the news that, the State had come back and appologies they were wrong I was doing it right.

Too late...for my fragile mental health, by that time I had opened a six pack of pepsi and was in a fizzy caffeine induced happy place.

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