Home projects, not for the faint of heart
Home projects. It is a phrase that many homeowners dread. Don’t get me wrong, I understand having a "home project" means I have a home. A lot of people who cannot afford a house and actually want one would love to bear the burden of having such a cross as a “home project.” They might envision a couple wearing their flannel shirts and jeans with a bandanna on their heads, working together with a TV sitcom comedic style. Laughing and joking as they delve deeper in their project, growing closer as a couple by the end of the half hour it takes to do the project. And once the project is done and it looks spectacular, like only Hollywood carpentry can portray, they cuddle up on the couch, all the more closer in their relationship for their trials.
This is so far from reality it might as well be in another galaxy. I have no idea how any of the writers come up with a fantasy of couples working together on a project and no one is cussing or threat of divorce among them. Because that just doesn’t happen in the real world.
Frankly, I have given up on doing projects with my husband. I like to think of it as “artistic differences.” He approaches a home project with all the caution of a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. I have a different approach. I’m more like a shark in waters that have been chummed with my favorite fish….I’m striking out and I don’t know at what, but damn if it doesn’t feel so right. He is Precision Man….I am Impulsive Girl.
Let me give you an example…..I once cruised through an entire Menards, both upper and lower levels, while my husband looked for ONE can of varnish. I went through almost every area of that store, and he had not moved from his section. When he finally made his choice, it was exactly what we needed. He bought all the supplies he needed in order to complete the job. He worked like a surgeon throughout the entire project. And on some level I envied his attention to detail. I probably would have grabbed a can off the shelf and not even slowed the cart down to see what I picked. Supplies probably would have been an after thought….as in I thought of them after I got home.
It is this attitude which banned me from doing any painting in the house. Really, I don’t blame my husband. I blame time. I didn’t wait long enough to put on a second coat of paint. After the second coat, it looked as if the walls were bleeding a white substance. This was in our foyer. My precise husband was NOT pleased.
But like everything, there is a time for precision, and a time for demolition. I am the second part of the equation. And I do it well.
This brings me to the latest “home project.” It is in the crawlspace, and some tough decisions are needed to be made. Decisions which would mean too much vacillating would detract from the project. This project has been my project from hell. Please note, I am afraid of mice and small spaces. This project involves me in the crawlspace, chasing down mice. See my problem? And this kind of project isn’t the kind my precise husband can do. It is a project that needs the sledgehammer, which is almost my nickname around my house.
There is 80 years of crap hidden in the dirt in that crawlspace, and I am hoping no past owners had a quirky sense of humor and buried their cat in there….or did a reenactment of Arsenic and Old Lace. Mostly in this home project I have found a lot of old nasty wood, siding to a house, a door, nails that are squareshaped, mystery metal, and tiles of what appears to be ceramic. I have also encountered creepy crawlies that probably have not been discovered by science, due to the fact they have been living in my crawlspace and science hasn’t had time to discover there critters. There have been an innumerable amount of “websacks” that have been the breeding ground for my little friends. I brush them away like I brush a stray hair away. They didn’t bother me at all.
The one thing that chased me away…..a mouse nest. After 3 hours of crawling around and brushing off buggies like nothing, When I encountered the nest, I poked at it with a TEN FOOT long stick. And then I ran out of the crawlspace like sissy.
I am not proud of that moment in my life. Bits of chewed up paper chased me out of my home project.
So….my half hour is up, my project is undone, and I sent the cat in to chase away the big bad mousies. Precision man is not able to assist in the project, partly because he doesn’t like the cussing of his other half while she hits her head on the low beams. There is an unbelievable amount of wood and misc. objects down there to fill up the next 4 garbage pick ups. And I’m not even remotely done. I’m not sure what can top off this day.
Wait, I know….a son driving home, and then letting me know his doors on his car don’t close. Is this the job of Precision man or “Let’s see what this does” woman?
I’ll give you a hint; I should not have gotten involved with the doors. It is now a job for, “Mechanic man.”
The home projects have now migrated outside. Lord….give me strength.
This is so far from reality it might as well be in another galaxy. I have no idea how any of the writers come up with a fantasy of couples working together on a project and no one is cussing or threat of divorce among them. Because that just doesn’t happen in the real world.
Frankly, I have given up on doing projects with my husband. I like to think of it as “artistic differences.” He approaches a home project with all the caution of a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. I have a different approach. I’m more like a shark in waters that have been chummed with my favorite fish….I’m striking out and I don’t know at what, but damn if it doesn’t feel so right. He is Precision Man….I am Impulsive Girl.
Let me give you an example…..I once cruised through an entire Menards, both upper and lower levels, while my husband looked for ONE can of varnish. I went through almost every area of that store, and he had not moved from his section. When he finally made his choice, it was exactly what we needed. He bought all the supplies he needed in order to complete the job. He worked like a surgeon throughout the entire project. And on some level I envied his attention to detail. I probably would have grabbed a can off the shelf and not even slowed the cart down to see what I picked. Supplies probably would have been an after thought….as in I thought of them after I got home.
It is this attitude which banned me from doing any painting in the house. Really, I don’t blame my husband. I blame time. I didn’t wait long enough to put on a second coat of paint. After the second coat, it looked as if the walls were bleeding a white substance. This was in our foyer. My precise husband was NOT pleased.
But like everything, there is a time for precision, and a time for demolition. I am the second part of the equation. And I do it well.
This brings me to the latest “home project.” It is in the crawlspace, and some tough decisions are needed to be made. Decisions which would mean too much vacillating would detract from the project. This project has been my project from hell. Please note, I am afraid of mice and small spaces. This project involves me in the crawlspace, chasing down mice. See my problem? And this kind of project isn’t the kind my precise husband can do. It is a project that needs the sledgehammer, which is almost my nickname around my house.
There is 80 years of crap hidden in the dirt in that crawlspace, and I am hoping no past owners had a quirky sense of humor and buried their cat in there….or did a reenactment of Arsenic and Old Lace. Mostly in this home project I have found a lot of old nasty wood, siding to a house, a door, nails that are squareshaped, mystery metal, and tiles of what appears to be ceramic. I have also encountered creepy crawlies that probably have not been discovered by science, due to the fact they have been living in my crawlspace and science hasn’t had time to discover there critters. There have been an innumerable amount of “websacks” that have been the breeding ground for my little friends. I brush them away like I brush a stray hair away. They didn’t bother me at all.
The one thing that chased me away…..a mouse nest. After 3 hours of crawling around and brushing off buggies like nothing, When I encountered the nest, I poked at it with a TEN FOOT long stick. And then I ran out of the crawlspace like sissy.
I am not proud of that moment in my life. Bits of chewed up paper chased me out of my home project.
So….my half hour is up, my project is undone, and I sent the cat in to chase away the big bad mousies. Precision man is not able to assist in the project, partly because he doesn’t like the cussing of his other half while she hits her head on the low beams. There is an unbelievable amount of wood and misc. objects down there to fill up the next 4 garbage pick ups. And I’m not even remotely done. I’m not sure what can top off this day.
Wait, I know….a son driving home, and then letting me know his doors on his car don’t close. Is this the job of Precision man or “Let’s see what this does” woman?
I’ll give you a hint; I should not have gotten involved with the doors. It is now a job for, “Mechanic man.”
The home projects have now migrated outside. Lord….give me strength.
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