Friday, September 20, 2013

The Water Heater, the Aftermath.

After I slept in to the sweet bliss of eight thirty I drug myself out of bed with one goal in mind. My aunt was having a family picnic at 4pm and come hell or high water I was going to take a shower and finish that floor and then go eat BBQ chicken until I couldn't breather and/or walk.

There are worse goals.

So the first order of business after the morning chores was to cut the plywood and paint it and to start treating the furniture for mold. So while Scott drug himself up into the driveway to cut and paint I started cleaning all the furniture. Which was like one of those find the hidden object games except that the hidden object was mold and it was sneaky and fucking everywhere.

Bitch ass mold.

So I got a bucket and some Pine-sol and tried to convince my knees to bend. Normally when I talk about knee pain I mean on the surface of the knee caps from kneeling on a hard or uncomfortable surface too long. This however was new in that there was shooting pains in the knee itself. Like my bodies own special way of telling me to go fuck myself.

Also special was that when I was done treating all the big stuff, was the super awesome not shitty at all discovery that I had to check every damn drawer from both chests of drawers because some of them had mold on them too. Which meant that I had to empty them out into the ever growing pile of laundry and then wash out the whole fucking drawer.

However that was the easy part. Or at least easier then going through all the clothes from our closet that had mold on them or had become filthy from contact with the floor, or had been stepped on. Then of course I had to add the rejects to Mt. Laundry and consign the others to the depths of the closet. Of course the only bright spot in all this was I knew that I had mold problems in the closet of the other mobile home I had lived in so most of the shit on floor level was in plastic bins.

Which as far as I am concerned are magic mold repelling devices from the future.

All I had to do was wipe down one or two of them and shove them back into the closet so I could return to trying to remember what drawers went in what order and I can't mix them up because they will stick shut and then I will have to fight them open because old furniture is picky.

Basically it was like playing the worst memory match game ever.

Then the plywood was done and I got to lay down the tiles and I felt really, really good about this floor because the cheap shitty tiles didn't look half bad and I really, really hate carpeting. Plus the carpet had been a deep blue and these were much lighter and made the room look, you know, bright for once. Then I finished the closet and we put everything back and then we took the hot water heater for a test drive and it fucking WORKED.

So then I took the greatest shower in the history of mankind ever.


Astronauts showering in space for the first time? Not even close.

So them we got cleaned up and I gave the finger to Mt. Laundry and then we went and bought some pies from the fucking Walmart and then went and ate BQQ chicken and my relatives laughed at our story and I ate pie and potato chips until it hurt and then I shoved some brownies in my face because I was trying to pack in calories before I was back to eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for lunch every day. And then all too soon it was time to go home and I got to take home a pie because apparently nobody likes apple and then I was all like, score.

Then we got back and I put medication in the cats eyeballs and we decided to let the Jack the dog back into the bedroom because he had been super ridiculous unhappy that he couldn't hide under the bed anymore and then he was thrilled up until he saw that we had put down tile and he played like three rounds of the floor is lava and then he tried to get under the bed twice while his feet went in every direction and then I felt kinda bad for him and then he got the hang of it.

And then I made a mental note to buy him a rug and then I realized that was probably not going to happen because I had just spent like, all the money.

All of it.

And then I figured he would get used to it and then I went to take him outside and he couldn't get back out from under the bed and I had to pull him out because his legs no longer legged.

At least in his mind.

And then he said fuck it and came to bed with me and curled up right by my side and I put one arm around him and looked up the ceiling and thought about how the past three days had been so fucking insane and that when people told me that building a house was the hardest thing I would probably ever do I thought about how what they really meant was that it would take everything out of you that you had and more, and that it would run you down and down and down until you felt like you had nothing but that somehow you would keep getting back up and doing it again for the love of the dreams that you held deep in your heart.

And then I said “you know Jack, I think we are going to be okay.” And then he licked my hand and heaved a deep sigh that is his way of telling me he has settled and that it is time to go to sleep and I stopped petting him and closed my eyes and thought one last time I think it's gonna be okay.

Once I get over this sinus infection and knee pain, that is.

Oh and the back pain.

And my hands stop smelling like Pine-sol.

So maybe a few more days.


  1. I admire you so much for not only putting in these kind of days but then taking the time to write it up so we can follow along. You go girl!

  2. I'm continually in awe of your drive. Thanks for taking us on this amazing (and incredibly hard) journey. :)