You Can Do It, We Can Help... In Theory....

"The dread specter of your own mortality will loom over you all month, but you'll be so busy remodeling your bathroom that you'll hardly notice."

Almost 4 full months ago, now - Mama, in all her molting splendor, clogged the sink in our Master Bathroom. Silly to label it with such grandeur as it is smaller than most closets. I also chose to hang out in a state of denial about being the cause of said clog as my hair is barely over 3 or 4" long - and you'd really think all that Aquanet & bleach would make it nice and slick for the water-slide ride down.... Regardless, He-Man thought he'd clear it right up with a straightened metal hanger. Seems simple enough, no? No. The P-Trap (I giggle every time I say it out loud) was right on the verge of rusting through and aforementioned hanger finished the job. For what I can imagine were a few brilliant moments, He-Man patted himself on the back for a job well done. Meanwhile, Niagara Falls had invaded the laundry room downstairs.


After a few hours of cleaning, cursing and general carrying-on, it was observed that I was almost in a pleasant zen-like trance as I plugged along building Noah's Ark out of toothpicks. This put him quite suddenly at ease and he actually thanked me for remaining so level-headed. Ooooh! It seems I just stumbled upon yet another instance of ulterior motives.... That bathroom has been the bane of my existence since we moved in. It was a blinding Sanitarium White (pretty sure the good folks at Valspar had the sense to since take such a sterile shade off the market): White old wooden vanity, white chipped sink, white tile, white shower stall, white walls, white blinds, white medicine cabinet and white fixtures... or at least I'd like to imagine they were white sometime around 1983-ish or so. Currently, no combination of bleach, Kaboom!, Lysol Tub & Shower or paint thinner could bring it back to anything even approaching a non-yuck status.

Eureka! Mama answered the door before Fate had a chance to knock! "Well, Honey, damnit all to hell - looks like we're just going to have to gut this bathroom and make a trip to Home Depot!" On rare occasion, I can put on a poker face long enough to hide the sinisterly giddy intent. As it just so happened, there were all sorts of fabulous deals between Lowe's and Home Depot's weekly ads and my mind quite literally ran amuck as drool seethed out of my mouth.


Fast forward 4 months of showering in the kid's bathroom, spending far more than the poor bank account legally allowed and enduring catastrophic mishaps on top of the colorful language that would even make Ninja Kitty proud... It's gorgeous. Seriously. GORGEOUS. Not done, mind you - but I think of it as an exciting adventure. Simply substitute the mystery behind Door #1 with the mystery behind the wall the shower is attached to.

The problem with home improvement stores, in general? Those pesky displays and brochures - they have a way of sending the imagination soaring off a cliff. We have now taken on no less than 3 additional projects with 2 more in the wings. I maintain the first was altogether necessary - the rest? Well - I'm taking a stab at the notion that my manifestation of some sort of bipolar disorder is the manic need to remodel. Even when I have those recurring dreams of winning the lottery and I mentally walk through each and every project with the level of detail Mike Holmes* would be proud of - it's simply never enough.

My 'Ol Man and I are quickly getting quite the edumacation on all of this as we couldn't even consider ourselves amateurs with a straight face - but that's the glory of DIY, right? To hear the experts in orange aprons tell it, we're only taking on the projects so simple the dog could do it. They apparently either underestimate the brilliance of that slick-headed idiot, or WAY overestimate our ability/patience to read directions. Shoot first, ask questions later - that's been my motto since I was little more than a fear in my parents' subconsciousness!

Further adding insult to injury, my mom is in the process of taking on one project after another in her condo in Portland. That's not an entirely true statement - as it was her job for well over 18 years, she is researching the hell out of everything down to the countersink screw in the sub-floor - then promptly hiring a well-liked and highly recommended contractor to bring the visions to life. Plus we've come full circle back to the aforementioned personification of contractor genius that is *Mike Holmes.

Since getting satellite TV a handful of years ago, I have been mesmerized with the offerings of HGTV and DIY Network.... I tried sharing this passion with my mother innumerable times. Clearly all my accolades were falling on deaf ears as sometime late last year she calls me with what promises to be amazing news. "Darling! There is this channel called "HGT...Something-or-Other" - it's the bee's knees, Annie!... And Mike Holmes *dreamy sigh* - well I'm speechless". Rather daily since this initial "revelation", Mr. Holmes has come up at least twice in every phone conversation. Don't get me wrong - the guy is clearly a well educated and talented genius - but our version of DIY is to buy the materials we vaguely remember needing and hoping for the best. Just as my viewpoint of my hair is if I f*ck it up too royally, I can always shave it - the same goes for our house. Nothing is permanent... costly - sure, permanent - no.

But on it goes. And with each subsequent trip to these castles of home improvement, Mama's spirits lift that much higher. We may not be pulling permits or adhering to these mythical codes I keep hearing about, but sweet merciful jesus, we're having fun! (Remind me to reward/bribe Van with more cookies this afternoon for putting up with yet another month of Mama taking over his bathroom....)

*squeal of delight*! I just got the email notices of the new weekly ads!!!!
-N.K.A.


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Kitty

Thursday, April 14, 2011

You Can Do It, We Can Help... In Theory....

"The dread specter of your own mortality will loom over you all month, but you'll be so busy remodeling your bathroom that you'll hardly notice."

Almost 4 full months ago, now - Mama, in all her molting splendor, clogged the sink in our Master Bathroom. Silly to label it with such grandeur as it is smaller than most closets. I also chose to hang out in a state of denial about being the cause of said clog as my hair is barely over 3 or 4" long - and you'd really think all that Aquanet & bleach would make it nice and slick for the water-slide ride down.... Regardless, He-Man thought he'd clear it right up with a straightened metal hanger. Seems simple enough, no? No. The P-Trap (I giggle every time I say it out loud) was right on the verge of rusting through and aforementioned hanger finished the job. For what I can imagine were a few brilliant moments, He-Man patted himself on the back for a job well done. Meanwhile, Niagara Falls had invaded the laundry room downstairs.


After a few hours of cleaning, cursing and general carrying-on, it was observed that I was almost in a pleasant zen-like trance as I plugged along building Noah's Ark out of toothpicks. This put him quite suddenly at ease and he actually thanked me for remaining so level-headed. Ooooh! It seems I just stumbled upon yet another instance of ulterior motives.... That bathroom has been the bane of my existence since we moved in. It was a blinding Sanitarium White (pretty sure the good folks at Valspar had the sense to since take such a sterile shade off the market): White old wooden vanity, white chipped sink, white tile, white shower stall, white walls, white blinds, white medicine cabinet and white fixtures... or at least I'd like to imagine they were white sometime around 1983-ish or so. Currently, no combination of bleach, Kaboom!, Lysol Tub & Shower or paint thinner could bring it back to anything even approaching a non-yuck status.

Eureka! Mama answered the door before Fate had a chance to knock! "Well, Honey, damnit all to hell - looks like we're just going to have to gut this bathroom and make a trip to Home Depot!" On rare occasion, I can put on a poker face long enough to hide the sinisterly giddy intent. As it just so happened, there were all sorts of fabulous deals between Lowe's and Home Depot's weekly ads and my mind quite literally ran amuck as drool seethed out of my mouth.


Fast forward 4 months of showering in the kid's bathroom, spending far more than the poor bank account legally allowed and enduring catastrophic mishaps on top of the colorful language that would even make Ninja Kitty proud... It's gorgeous. Seriously. GORGEOUS. Not done, mind you - but I think of it as an exciting adventure. Simply substitute the mystery behind Door #1 with the mystery behind the wall the shower is attached to.

The problem with home improvement stores, in general? Those pesky displays and brochures - they have a way of sending the imagination soaring off a cliff. We have now taken on no less than 3 additional projects with 2 more in the wings. I maintain the first was altogether necessary - the rest? Well - I'm taking a stab at the notion that my manifestation of some sort of bipolar disorder is the manic need to remodel. Even when I have those recurring dreams of winning the lottery and I mentally walk through each and every project with the level of detail Mike Holmes* would be proud of - it's simply never enough.

My 'Ol Man and I are quickly getting quite the edumacation on all of this as we couldn't even consider ourselves amateurs with a straight face - but that's the glory of DIY, right? To hear the experts in orange aprons tell it, we're only taking on the projects so simple the dog could do it. They apparently either underestimate the brilliance of that slick-headed idiot, or WAY overestimate our ability/patience to read directions. Shoot first, ask questions later - that's been my motto since I was little more than a fear in my parents' subconsciousness!

Further adding insult to injury, my mom is in the process of taking on one project after another in her condo in Portland. That's not an entirely true statement - as it was her job for well over 18 years, she is researching the hell out of everything down to the countersink screw in the sub-floor - then promptly hiring a well-liked and highly recommended contractor to bring the visions to life. Plus we've come full circle back to the aforementioned personification of contractor genius that is *Mike Holmes.

Since getting satellite TV a handful of years ago, I have been mesmerized with the offerings of HGTV and DIY Network.... I tried sharing this passion with my mother innumerable times. Clearly all my accolades were falling on deaf ears as sometime late last year she calls me with what promises to be amazing news. "Darling! There is this channel called "HGT...Something-or-Other" - it's the bee's knees, Annie!... And Mike Holmes *dreamy sigh* - well I'm speechless". Rather daily since this initial "revelation", Mr. Holmes has come up at least twice in every phone conversation. Don't get me wrong - the guy is clearly a well educated and talented genius - but our version of DIY is to buy the materials we vaguely remember needing and hoping for the best. Just as my viewpoint of my hair is if I f*ck it up too royally, I can always shave it - the same goes for our house. Nothing is permanent... costly - sure, permanent - no.

But on it goes. And with each subsequent trip to these castles of home improvement, Mama's spirits lift that much higher. We may not be pulling permits or adhering to these mythical codes I keep hearing about, but sweet merciful jesus, we're having fun! (Remind me to reward/bribe Van with more cookies this afternoon for putting up with yet another month of Mama taking over his bathroom....)

*squeal of delight*! I just got the email notices of the new weekly ads!!!!
-N.K.A.


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