A disciplined woman would do yoga BEFORE blogging.
"A real woman could stop you from drinking." "It'd have to be a really big woman."
Name that movie.
Anyway, here I am blogging, not yoga-ing, and why don't you nama my fucking ste, judgy. I wanted to tell you about ALL WE ACCOMPLISHED yesterday, and it was a lot. The first thing we attempted to do was fix my screen door.
It was unseasonably chilly yesterday. Really, this was the only shot of the door I could find. It was all stained from Edsel jumping on it, the doorknob was gone (see prev ref to damn dog), and you can't tell, but the screen was ripped to ribbons as well. So it was like I lived outside, with the mosquitoes and flies and hawks and coyotes that came through that ripped screen.
Because Ned is Ned, we had to go to the store on Saturday, look at screen things (did you know you can select different COLORS of screens? Of COURSE there's not pink. I'd have lead with that if there were) and observe the screen tools and get a screen brochure and screen our calls and change our screen savers and go to bed and dream of screenie and think about the screen and plan. Plan plan plan.
To say I am a little more devil-may-care about projects is putting it mildly. But this is good, because Marvin put the lack in lackadaisical when we did projects. "Good enough," was always his motto, as was, "Directions are for pansies."
Marvin never said "pansies" in his life unless he was helping me plant some. I was just trying to make him sound awful. But really he hated directions.
My point is, we screened BACK to the store yesterday, having studied up on screens, and we had a list and a plan, and also part of my spline, which sounds personal but which is really this thin black round stuff you squish in to make the screen stay put. That is the official explanation, and tune in next time for more Handyman Tips from June®.
We brought with us the OLD spline to ensure the NEW spline would be the right size, which Ned learned all about in his screeny studies. He also made jokes about how I have no spline, because I have no spleen, see, and I really think he should leave the hysterical jokes to me, because let me tell you. Every time Ned looked at me when we were at the store, I was doing another funny funny thing with the spline we brought.
I was a Glamour "Don't."
"June, could you cut it out? Which color screen do you want?" asked Ned, who was so over me there isn't even a phrase for how over me he is.
"I don't care what color, I just really don't want to look at the mousetraps," I said, then fell to the ground in hysterics.
"Look, here's pet-resistant screen. We should probably get that," said Ned, pretending I wasn't me.
"Would you like a peanut?" I asked him, spitting up.
"That one was pretty good," said Ned.
We DID get the pet-resistant screen, and we took the door down, cleaned it, sanded it, painted it, chanted over it, and finally put in the new screen, with our new spline. "Luuuucyyy, you have some spline-ing to do!" I said. Honestly, if there were a drive-thru wedding chapel in Greensboro, yesterday would've been the day I finally took myself there.
While the paint was drying on the door, Ned and I whacked weeds in my back yard, which he did very manfully for awhile before I said, "I want to do it!" And it was really extra fun for about five minutes, when I very distinctly started feeling like Careen and Suellen in Gone With the Wind when they had to pick cotton for the first time in their pampered lives. Oh, my arms were aching and I was sweating and geez, was that my BACK yelling at me? But I persevered, as I had insisted Ned give me the whacker because it looked so fun, and after a good 15 minutes Ned offered to continue, and I acted like I had something important to do, so I gave him the whacky thing and sat gingerly on the deck, wondering if you could die of sweat.
We also painted my metal chair.
Here's how it was a few years ago, and Marvin painted it pink in 2009. I looked back at my blog to see if I showed it after, painted all pink, but what I DID find was a kitten picture of Henry, my cat that Marvin got in the divorce.
SQUEEEEEEEEEE!!!!! That was the very first photo I ever took of him, and let me tell you. That cat never took a bad picture from then on. He was a model kitty.
Anyway, yesterday I cleaned and sanded and painted and chanted over my chair, and right now it looks like this:
I'm hoping to find some kind of finish-y thing to make it more glossy, but I like the color.
Here, also, are my dogs celebrating the new door and chair and weedlessness.
if edz do not get off lu, she report to HR.
Oh, and here!
TA DAAAAAAA! Some of the dumb wooden decorative parts are gone forever (see above re stupid Edsel), but what're you gonna do? We looked for replacements in the store, to no avail. Still, isn't it so much better?
In all, we worked on stuff for seven hours, and we went out for pizza after, and you have never seen two people pounce on a pizza the way Ned and I did that evening. "Is it just me, or is this the best pizza you've ever eaten in your life?" asked Ned, who did not get an answer because I was chawing. I even ate the crust, which never happens. Crust is for pansies.
I have to go, and allegedly do yoga now, to work off the HORRIBLE LACTIC ACID that has taken residence in my arms and also hips, which do not lie. Gyms should offer weed whacking classes. No one would be fat again.
I'll let you know when Edsel breaks the new screen.