Spit Spot
Last night, after a trip to Home Despot that drained the light from my soul, all I wanted was a quick and easy can of chili for dinner. It had been seven hours since lunch (ramen and an apple) and I was crashing hard from the Rice Krispy treats I'd whipped up when I got home from work and then went at with both hands like a savage. At 9:30 p.m., chili seemed the easiest thing in the world--just open the can, heat on the stove, and sprinkle with pre-shredded cheese from a bag. Of course, I couldn't find the can opener, which was an obstacle on the level of not being able to find my mouth. I'm remembering a cartoon in which a cat, in attempting to get its owner to open a tin of catfood, ends up slamming its face repeatedly into the object of desire. It was like that. Both the cat and I would like to tell you that a face does not a can open, and neither does a quartz countertop, either end of a butcher knife, or prayer. I actually had to go lay down on the bed and chill out for five minutes lest I erupt into a tantruming tempest of hunger and frustration, hurling about everything within my reach, which, in the kitchen right now, could be anything from glassware to a formal evening gown.
Either it's that time of the month or that time of the move. A Poppinsian snap of the fingers would really come in handy for putting everything in its place right about now.
Our epic trip to Home Despot was actually Phase I of getting things in order. Whether in the form of a single closet rod (me) or a "clothing storage solution system" (Simon), we agreed we needed to get the wearables taken care of ASAP. After Simon accidentally dumped a shovelful of dirt down the leg of one pair of my jeans, I'm now down to a single pair of pants--a pair I haven't seen in six months, a pair that goes with exactly two shirts in my wardrobe, a pair that needs a belt. Has anyone seen a belt?
When I say the trip to Home Despot was "epic," I mostly mean that it was long; I don't know of many true epics that develop and climax and denoument while the main characters stay rooted in one place for the duration of the tale. And yet there we were, standing slackjawed before the racks of clothing storage solution systems, for an epically long time. We measured, we drafted diagrams, we layed out the racks and shelves and brackets on the floor of Aisle 34 and stumped our puzzlers over how to make our grand design work with the parts available. As I do every year during tax time, and as I did every day during the mortgage process, I wondered how in heaven the stupid people of the world ever itemize deductions or buy homes or solve their storage problems with pre-fab systems when we--two fairly bright adults, if we do say so ourselves--were having such a rough time of it. When we moved we got a hot tub and a treehouse and a fat slice of humble pie.
In going with the cheapest closet organizer available, we left three hundred dollars poorer and completely robbed of our sanity. And then we got home and I couldn't open the g. d. chili. Cans but no openers, pants but no belts, ironing board but no iron, ten thousand spoons but all you need is a knife...like almost everything else in that song, it's not ironic, it just sucks.
Boy does that ever suck. Hopefully you won't have to live like this for too much longer!
Not that you'd have any idea about this sort of thing, Beck... ;)
I recommend Campbell's pop-top, single serving chili. It tastes very good, and is impossible to mess up (0;.
Leah, you described how I feel any time something goes wrong or I can't find/fix/get to work exactly what is necessary at the exact moment I want it. That desire to throw something, to smash something, anything, is strong in me :)
Leah, you described how I feel any time something goes wrong or I can't find/fix/get to work exactly what is necessary at the exact moment I want it. That desire to throw something, to smash something, anything, is strong in me :)
How humiliating to post about my temper TWICE . . .once was bad enough!
I'm remembering a cartoon in which a cat, in attempting to get its owner to open a tin of catfood, ends up slamming its face repeatedly into the object of desire
Oh wow, I just saw that short not more than 10 minutes ago. (Yes, I put Sesame Street on in the background when I'm on the internet.)
Giggle... Home Despot. I may be slow and non-American, but I ain't heard that before and it made me giggle. I am feeling your pain in advance though, we make the flatpack/tat trip on Saturday and I am already steeling myself...
Baby, just hang in there. It is definitely that time of the move where the novelty has !@^%# worn off all ready and you want your *&@^$*@&^ stuff where it @*#&^ BELONGS!
I needed to take many such 5 minute time-outs where I'd sit in the bathroom and breathe heavily through my nose while sitting on my hands so that I didn't ravage through the apartment T-Rex-style. It was also usually because I hadn't eaten in 12 hours.
Oh, we recently moved and this is too familiar. I hope you finally got your dinner! Hang in there. (P.S. We've found Lowes to be a less...soul sucking place.)
I'm about a month ahead you. Really, the almost daily trips to Home Depot and/or Lowes will slowly dwindle, you will eventually find yourself unpacked and sorted, and while there will continue to be projects.. they at least won't seem nearly as neccessary for survival and therefore not immediate. And then you will enjoy your new home and hot tub and a glass of wine in your new lovely garden.
Oh, grasshoppa, you have so many things to learn. And the first one, which I have come to know from eating entire humble pies again and again, is that no matter how smart you think you are, there is nothing better than experience. And experience only comes through practice, failure, success and lots of blood and sweat, maybe some tears. This goes for closet organizers and installing toilets.
Maybe your can-opening can-undrum can inspire a fun contest to make lemonade out of vinegar. Whoever finds the most interesting can opener wins.
Oh, grasshoppa, you have so many things to learn. And the first one, which I have come to know from eating entire humble pies again and again, is that no matter how smart you think you are, there is nothing better than experience. And experience only comes through practice, failure, success and lots of blood and sweat, maybe some tears. This goes for closet organizers and installing toilets.
Maybe your can-opening can-undrum can inspire a fun contest to make lemonade out of vinegar. Whoever finds the most interesting can opener wins.
So nice I posted twice!
i totally get really grumpy and feel like my entire life is spiraling out of control when i get really hungry. especially when i can't assuage the hunger. also, i'm moving again in a month or so, and i'm really not looking forward to it (especially after reading this post).
p.s. hi, i've been reading you for quite some time and have just never commented because i suck. but i think we're a lot alike and if i ever lived anywhere even remotely near the west coast we could totally be bff.
I just went from "Oh moving! Fun! Buying things!" to "Oh moving! F*ck it". So thanks!
But then we got in the hot tub!
I stumbled across your blog from a blog from a blog from a blog, but really? It's like you live in my brain.
I feel your pain, I really do. And I'm laughing *with* you, not at you... although I don't know if you've reached the point where you're laughing. Hmm. I hope you get there, soon, but in the meantime, I really enjoyed reading your vent!
Looking at that photo again ... some dude from the "Mad Max" movie called. He wants his boots back. :-)