Thursday, July 21, 2011

My Lack of Carpentry Skills and how it Nearly Got Me Arrested

Okay "arrested" is a harsh word and inaccurate, but the title grabbed you.  Admit it, you wanted to read about me getting cuffed, thrown in the back seat of a cop car, and dragged off to prison where my blog posts would be filled with Oz-like stories of avoiding prison rapes, making other inmates my bitches, and crafting shivs from smuggled toothbrushes and toilet paper.  I digress...

This does go a long way to add validity to my belief that my life really is a shit show.  I'm learning more and more each day how much my lack of basic life skills i.e.the ability to use a hammer and/or any other kind of "tool" is detrimental to my overall well-being.  Don't get me wrong, I am wicked "resourceful", like MacGyver level resourceful, but that does NOT directly translate into "handy."  The chasm between those two worlds is becoming painfully clear to me.

My usual solution to problems is the following five-step progression:
1. If it's broken or not working, throw it away.
2. If you can't throw it away, put it under a pile of something else so you can pretend it's not there for a while.
3. If you can't put it under a pile of something else, use duct tape to fix it or patch it back together.
4. If you can't use duct tape then throw it at something or kick it swiftly.
5. If it's too big or too expensive to throw or kick, call dad.

So, the good news is I was not awakened by construction workers this morning.  In fact, there hasn't been any construction workers anywhere near the house next door all day.  I would be thrilled to report that news and tell you I got to sleep in...but around 5:30 a loud clap of thunder (anyone who lives in my town can attest to this) quite literally shook the shit out of my house.  I leapt straight UP out of bed and then immediately far LEFT landing squarely on my ass (and coincidentally a pile of shoes I've been meaning to put away except that I have a broken DVD player underneath the pile.  See above paragraph.  Next steps in that progression is duct tape then kicking of said DVD player.)

It was at that moment specifically (which I would like to NOT attribute to the timing of my ass hitting the ground) that my house alarm went off.  In my dark, empty bedroom I said, "Are you fucking kidding me?" to no one in particular but I'm fairly certain God was listening.  Bleary-eyed I mostly fell down the stairs to the panel by the garage door.  The door, who's latch (I had to Google search "door knob parts" to figure out what that was even called) has been sticking lately so the door won't always stay closed.  The thunder, or my ass hitting the ground an entire floor away must have jarred the door open, thus triggering the alarm to sound.

I entered the code, the alarm went silent, and I closed the door.  As I turned to head back upstairs, it popped opened again leaving a one inch opening that might as well have been the door calling me the "c" word.  Very confrontationally I shoved the door shut again.  I was in no mood to be messed with.  Yet again, it popped open.  I actually felt my blood pressure rise.  Not to be outdone by a door latch and before I got into a throw down with a very sturdy, heavy wooden door I went straight to step three in my highly developed process outlined above.

The door stayed shut after that and I spent the remainder of my night/early morning on the couch watching the cartoon network, and searching for "Wood Chippers" on Craig's List.

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