Tuesday, March 19, 2013

adventures in home decor

Pictures and vacation tales are coming, I promise.  In between naps and normal, annoying life things like laundry, and dinner, and cleaning, I am trying.

I just finished feverishly painting over the two holes in wall that I accidentally let the drill make earlier.  After Ruby sat next to me and said, "Mom you are the best screwer ever."  Good thing I'm better with spackling and a spatula than I am with a drill, because this is my second run in with home decor projects that have gone south faster than they have started.

If Jimmy finds out about this time, I'm sure Ruby will be handling the drill before I get to again.  Painting, quietly closing doors, running the spackling back to its proper home (is that considered working out?  I'm going with it) and wiping all traces of guilt off of my face, I'm ready to act normal when he walks in the door.

But really?  Shelves with hidden brackets, trying to get centered on the wall and level at the same time.  It's like its own recipe for a disaster waiting to happen.  I carefully dotted toothpaste where the screws would go, marked the middle of the wall, briefly wondered how I would match the middle of the shelf with the mark on the wall and decided I'm so good I'd just wing it.  I balanced the level on top of the shelf (other than drawing a silhouette of the entire shelf on the wall, is there something I am missing? Besides a handy husband because that's not an option.) closed my eyes and smacked it hard enough to leave toothpaste dots.

Wow, this is going really well.

I start drilling (note the above commentary by Ruby, bless her heart).  Screw #1 in, secure.  Repeat.  Screw #2 in.  I breathed again, then picked up my pretty red shelf.  It appears as though I stopped soon, but not soon enough; the screws were in too far.  I wiggled them out just a bit (I know people are shaking their heads, clucking their tongues).  I struggled to get the second side of the shelf hooked.  After pushing the shelf to catch the screw, it snagged it.  It appeared to be uneven, so I did what any handy person would do and I grabbed the nearest tool - an Ariel sock and a hammer and I began hitting it.

Turns out, they were both where they were supposed to be, only my shelf looked like it belonged in a fun house, right next to the distorting mirrors.

Defeated, I removed the Ariel sock.  Laid down the hammer, and pulled and pulled at the shelf.  Nice to know they are sturdy.  I really couldn't get it off.  Grabbed the sock and hammer again, got in a really productive position and hammered upside down to make it come off.

Pretty red streaks had left the shelf and now adorned the wall.  And white gashes where paint was missing.

This was going downhill quickly.

I frantically searched for spackle.  Found it.  Thankfully, for once, Jimmy and I were on the same page about where stuff belongs - the spackle spatulas were right next to the spackle itself.  Miracles do happen.  I was back out on top.

Slung a litte bit on the counter after using a kid-sized knife to open the stupid container.  Composed myself and cleaned the counter then expertly applied it to the wall like it was my job.  Well, it was my job if I wanted to keep up my Martha Stewart charade.

Crisis averted.

Now.  I'll look up at Jimmy and nonchalantly ask about him putting up the shelves in Eisley's room.  Because I have been there.  Done that.  He can do the trigonometry involved while I listen to the results from a safe distance.

In other news--

I did successfully clean up someone's head after she decided it was a good day to wash her hair in the dog water.

And then I ate three of these.  Whole wheat and fruit-filled muffins.  I think this is a case where the more you can eat, the better.  I altered the recipe found here by replacing the applesauce with vanilla greek yogurt and a couple tablespoons full of honey.

And I also finalized a large order for blinds.  Lets hope my measuring skills are better than the drilling ones.

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