Saran Wrap & Aneurysms
You know how at the beginning of a movie, you’ll sometimes see a very quick, seemingly random clip of something that doesn’t make sense until later in the film? Okay, that’s what the photo right up there is meant to serve as, so take a gander but back burner it for just a minute.
The bathroom renovations.
Things are going along swimmingly, which is Toddspeak for “We’re paying someone else to do it.” If you’ve been wondering where I’ve been, let me assure you: it has not been anywhere around this project.
Things are going so well, in fact, I’m told both bathrooms will be completed by this Thursday. Which is Lifespeak for “Friday,” which is due to the fact that Handyman Man came down with the stomach virus. Which I am pretty certain we gifted him with earlier this week, and which I hope he doesn’t hold against us and decide to re-plumb the plumbing he’s already plumbed and switch Hot with Cold or something like that.
I had plans to document the whole project but that idea seemed to pivot on my being around here while the project was underway. And…well…that’d mean that I had to suffer hammering and banging and sawing and all manner of interruptions to my Normally (believe it or not) Very Quiet Day.
So no.
I’ve been holed up at all my favorite coffee shops and working away as far away from this construction site as possible, ever since Handyman Man asked me (on Day One), if I had a box or something into which he could throw (I assumed) (incorrectly, I might add) trash.
Yes. Well.
Later that afternoon when myself and Cute Redhead returned to the scene at the same time to survey the Awesome Work I Didn’t Have To Do, I was all Starry-Eyed And Wooowww and didn’t at first register her Displeasure.
Regarding the stuff you see in this photo right here…
…which is her stuff.
And by “her stuff” I mean you better keep your grimy paws off of it if you know what’s good for you — and don’t think for one minute this new bathroom means anything like Welcome To Our New Bathroom. Because it doesn’t. But it’s not only that the master bath happens to be Ground Control for the things she does to get ready every morning. Which, all by itself, is enough (trust me) to keep me cowering in the corner of the downstairs bathroom holding a washcloth and a comb and crying like a little girl.
That’s the old reason I stay out of that bathroom.
The new reason I stay out of that bathroom is because when Handyman Man asked for that box and I couldn’t find a box, but instead grabbed one of the trash cans from the side of the house (it was empty and made perfect sense to me)…
…it wasn’t to dispose torn-out walls and plaster or old fixtures or moulding or tiles.
No.
It was, apparently, to empty out her vanity.
Which Handyman Man did.
And which I didn’t (still don’t) see what the big deal was.
Cute Redhead, you’ll be surprised to discover, had two (not one, but two) aneurysms.
Aneurysm #1: Handyman Man touched her stuff
(okay…even I don’t touch her stuff)
Aneurysm #2: Handyman Man put it all in a garbage can and set it in the middle of the bedroom.
(big mistake on the part of High Powered Man coming here)
I thought this was hilarious, but only after the fact. That fact being that in one Look I realized she possessed enough energy to stuff my dismembered body into that very garbage can and leave it on the curb.
The other morning I had to change out the laundry and keep up with the whirlwind that is Every Single Day. So, opening the washing machine to load it up with the next load (I was in full Marty Stewart mode), I saw that it contained the plastic shower curtain liner thing which Cute Redhead obviously intended to recycle.
*grump
The economy being what it is, I decided a rejuvenated and newly-cleaned shower curtain wasn’t going to kill anybody, so I wrestled it out of the drum, threw it into the dryer, made a Big Giant Mental Note to myself to NOT forget it was in the dryer (heat, plastic, Male Limbic Brain…you do the math), and promptly forgot everything I just wrote.
And went upstairs to usher Alpha Male, Beta Male, and Charlie Girl off into their days, right?
Bad.
Somewhere in the morning’s salvo, I suddenly jumped thirty feet straight up, cursed something awesome terrible, and ran downstairs, taking three at a time, and come flying — FLYING — into the laundry room.
To open the dryer.
And discover the plastic shower curtain…
…was gone.
And by “gone” I sort of kind of in a way mean that it was just out of sight.
Also this: ‘member those Shrinky-Dink things from way back when in our innocent soft-focussed childhoods?
Yeah.
Back to the picture up top. That’s the shower curtain. After I
PEELED
IT
OFF
THE
DRYER
WALL (that’s why I didn’t see it)
and then pulled and kneaded and pulled some more and stretched and stepped on this end while pulling this end and basically injecting into my morning something I hadn’t planned. That is, wrestling with a giant strip of Saran Wrap.
And then I thought of that scene in Fried Green Tomatoes where Kathy Bates’ character opens the door to husband holding a martini and wearing nothing but Saran Wrap.
And then I thought Aneurysm #3 would be a total blast.
17 actual people years you say?? Hummm
LOL!!! I just noticed the Mylanta with all the stuff. Lay off the red wine reduction on EVERYTHING Marty!! :)