DIY MIA

Okay, so. I decided this past weekend would be a good weekend to knock out a couple of small household renovations. Y'know, like yanking out a counter top and replacing it with tile, installing new sinks, faucets, & light fixture, along with repainting & installing shelving in two closets.

We spent the entire weekend either at the home store, outside cutting tile or getting tools & supplies out of the storeroom, locked in our bathroom, or in a closet. Every time we opened a door, the Dawgs were standing there looking at us with reproach & giving us The Guilt.  We had to keep them out mostly to keep Tigger from eating EVERYDAMNTHING. I swear that Dawg is part garbage disposal.

I began Saturday bright eyed & raring to go. Sunday I started off slow but got into the zone. By yesterday my enthusiasm was beginning to wane. By 9PM last night, while TWH was still fiddling with the plumbing for the sinks, I was almost in tears. I was tired, I was sweaty, & I was D.O.N.E.  I was about two minutes away from screaming "I don't give a shit if the fucking pipe fits!! We can get the right piece TOMORROW!! I just wanna get a shower & GO. TO. BED!!".  I managed to say that with far fewer swears & through gritted teeth.

I did learn a few things though. Yelling will ALWAYS make shit worse.  Gulping iced coffee is second only to mainlining caffeine for a buzz. A splinter under your fingernail hurts like hell, and TWH & I make one hell of a team.

We also make Awesomeness like THIS:

Yep. Worth it!!

The Octogenarian Athlete

Okay, so.  Yesterday while TWH & I were in Starcrack's, we encountered the Octogenarian Athlete.  He passed by us as we waited for our coffees. I caught sight of him out of the corner of my eye and commented to TWH "Man, that's a LOT of spandex".  We got our coffees and were preparing to leave when it happened. I got a full frontal of the O.A.  Now, he wasn't wearing JUST spandex. He was wearing spandex that HAD to be at least two sizes TOO SMALL.  I was rendered speechless. SPEECHLESS!!  Me: *squeak*    TWH: Go baby. He's holding to door for us.  Me: *squeak*  TWH:  I know.  We get in the car and I look at TWH and exclaim: Oh my GAWD!!!  I can't un-see THAT!!!  That was MY Nightmare Before Christmas!!  So, in honor of the awfulness of it all, I have decided to write the O.A. a letter...

Dear Octogenarian Athlete,

While I applaud your obvious commitment to exercise and health, I can NOT overlook the fact that you obviously picked up your Granddaughter's spandex tights this morning as you were dressing for your day.  The image of your junk as you were (Bafflingly) willing to present it to the world snugged in spandex in fine detail.  I should never be able to determine if you, or any other male for that matter, are a "Grow-er" or a "Show-er" when you are fully dressed. Please, PLEASE for the love of all that is Good and Holy invest in a pair of shorts!! That way others can be spared the pain of having the image of your genitals seared into their brains the way they are into mine. Do it for the children, if nothing else.

Kisses,
Gin