Thursday, June 17, 2010

On the First Day of Summer or Nothing is Simple

It is the first day of summer. Yes, yes, I know. The "real" first day of summer is June 21 or something, but it is the first day of summer vacation. The first day of summer.

And usually I spend the first week of summer in a zombie-like state, slack jawed on the couch, taking in as much daytime television as my damaged-by-working-daily-with-teenagers brain can stand. And as it turns out, my brain can stand a lot of daytime TV. But this year was going to be different!

I scheduled an appointment for the city inspector to come over on the first day of summer. Sure he was going to come and inspect my four year old water heater, so there was really no rush, but I would have to get the house presentable, right? And that sort of happened, except that my sister won a "of the year" award so we went out for margaritas. But I had my coffee by 7 am and I cleared a path to the water heater and sort of made it look like people could inhabit my house. This was complicated by the fact that I haven't done anything at my house in a month . . . because I would do it when summer came and I was off. I even put away the ladder that had been out since last weekend for the great tree cutting adventure (another story altogether).

And the inspector arrived at 9:05 am, inspected for about four seconds, wrote out a sticker with a big happy "approved" on it, and wouldn't tell me that I got ripped off on the chimney liner. Very nice man. And I did get ripped off.

So was showered with the rest of the day ahead. I watched some Ellen. A little Rachel Ray. That woman is too happy. I took a little nap along with some aspirin. I think about planting some plants, but it is hot. I take another nap. And then I decide to put on the new shower rod that has been sitting in a box behind my bathroom door for six months. Only because the Spider Monkey used my bathroom during the great tree cutting adventure and shamed me by saying "Umm, are you ever going to take this out of the box?" What? It's behind the door. When I'm home alone, I don't close the door. So what box?

I open the box. It has a whole four pages of instructions. With large pictures. Very good. It is all stainless steel and extends outward, like a fancy hotel shower curtain rod. Very good. I have to start by taking down the old shower curtain rod. Okay. Right? There is a lot of old paint, which I can only assume is filled with yummy, yummy lead. The first screws come out relatively easily, but the bracket is painted to the wall. The second set of screws are more complicated, with ancient drywall mounts, which cause large-ish holes. After some minor swearing and a lot of unscrewing, everything old is in a trash bag. But there are still large-ish holes . . . and I have to make new holes which means the old holes will just be empty . . . and that seems like an invitation for black mold . . . hmmmm . . . plastic bags and spackle . . . too long to dry . . . I have to take a shower sometime soon . . .

So my genius idea, while looking for the spackle, is to use Great Stuff spray foam. It says water-resistant. It will fill the holes. Easy-Peasy. Except that I decide to fill that spot that I can see light through next to my door. And then a few more spots. And then it is on the floor. No problem, just pick it up. And throw it in the sink. Fill the holes in the bathroom. Drop some foam on the hardwood. And then . . . then decide to crawl up in the attic and fill that spot next to the kitchen sink stack that you are sure is leaking. Sticky hands get stuck to the insulation. Insulation gets everywhere. Itchy. Go to the sink to wash off the sticky and thus the insulation. Not working. Read can. "Remove from surfaces with acetone." "If on hands or skin, must wear off". So I get the nail polish remover. Still sticky. More nail polish remover. Really sticky. Scrub hands with brillo pad. Better. Put all stickiness in trash bag. Oh, and use about a half a roll of paper towels.

Alright. Time to take a break. Princess calls about our plans for tomorrow. Yes, I'm doing something on the second day of summer too! While I'm talking, I'll just cut this stuff out of the box with a Stanley knife. Until I stab myself in the hand with the Stanley knife. Hang up on Princess and use the other half of the paper towels. Call the Spider Monkey. No answer. Pour rubbing alcohol on stab wound. I can see a bit of innard poking out. Call my mother, measure the cut for her, and she reassures me that I can just butterfly it. So then I have to go out and get butterflies. And weird duct tape like waterproof bandages. Because despite the stab wound, I have to finish this project, because I have to shower due to the trip through the insulation in the attic. One side turns out to be on a stud, there is major leveling needed and I only have one and a half hands, but it all goes up eventually.

And the shower rod is now up. I still have to clean the bathroom so I don't have paint dust mixed with water. But there is no longer a box behind my door. And I will probably have a scar to prove it. Nothing is simple. Not even four pages of instructions with big pictures.