Last night, after the kids went to bed, I started changing out the last of the brass drawer and cabinet pulls in our kitchen and dining room. It was the last step to getting the job completed, and I was eager to get it done. I did not foresee, however, that I'd run into so many problems. Problems that ended up leading to me getting very frustrated ... and saying some stupid things.
Oh f*&%! (Said when I bent my fingernail back and separated it from the nail bed while trying to get one of the drawer pulls properly set in the holes.)
Son of a b^&*#! (Said as I actually watched the bruise form. Oh, and it hurt like hell.)
Oh yeah, you come in here with your testosterone and muscles and s#^% and just put the d@^& handle right in! I hate you, I actually hate you. (Said to my husband after he sauntered in, asked if I broke a nail - seriously?! - checked out my finger, and then proceeded to easily push in the handle I had been struggling with.)
Okay, I don't actually hate you. This just really f*&^ing hurts! (I really do love my husband. And it really f*&^ing hurt.)
B: Ask for help if you need it, okay Nicole?
N: Nope, not gonna. I'll jack up another finger if I have to. I am doing this myself, damn it! What should I do about my finger though?
B: I'd put ice on it if I were you.
N: Then I'd have to stop working!
B: Yup.
N: And I wouldn't be able to type!
B: Guess not.
(I promptly went back to work. What?! The pain eventually subsided and my finger didn't fall off.)
Teamwork, pass it along! (seconds later) Brought to you by a Foundation for a Better Life. (Said as I helped my husband put in one of the drawer pulls by holding onto one side while he pushed in the other.)
N: Agh! I pulled a boob!
B: That's never good. But you know, you can't pull a boob. You pull the muscle underneath.
N: What do you know?! You don't have them!
I guess that's it. There may have been one or two "That's what she said" jokes slipped in there, but I don't remember them well and wouldn't be able to do them justice here. Just goes to show you, I'm kind of a stubborn, Tourettes-y idiot when I do home improvement stuff.
*sigh*
Oh yeah, you come in here with your testosterone and muscles and s#^% and just put the d@^& handle right in! I hate you, I actually hate you. (Said to my husband after he sauntered in, asked if I broke a nail - seriously?! - checked out my finger, and then proceeded to easily push in the handle I had been struggling with.)
Okay, I don't actually hate you. This just really f*&^ing hurts! (I really do love my husband. And it really f*&^ing hurt.)
B: Ask for help if you need it, okay Nicole?
N: Nope, not gonna. I'll jack up another finger if I have to. I am doing this myself, damn it! What should I do about my finger though?
B: I'd put ice on it if I were you.
N: Then I'd have to stop working!
B: Yup.
N: And I wouldn't be able to type!
B: Guess not.
(I promptly went back to work. What?! The pain eventually subsided and my finger didn't fall off.)
Teamwork, pass it along! (seconds later) Brought to you by a Foundation for a Better Life. (Said as I helped my husband put in one of the drawer pulls by holding onto one side while he pushed in the other.)
N: Agh! I pulled a boob!
B: That's never good. But you know, you can't pull a boob. You pull the muscle underneath.
N: What do you know?! You don't have them!
I guess that's it. There may have been one or two "That's what she said" jokes slipped in there, but I don't remember them well and wouldn't be able to do them justice here. Just goes to show you, I'm kind of a stubborn, Tourettes-y idiot when I do home improvement stuff.
*sigh*
No comments:
Post a Comment