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Aug. 4th, 2005 11:04 amCame home from work last night, changed into shorts, and headed out to the in-laws to work on the f'ing bed AGAIN. Ate the last peice of sour grape pie in front of my FIL for spite, and if he hadn't been such a tit he would have been given the entire piece. Darn shame that, huh?
Hubby and I went to Lowe's and agonized over solutions for slat support. We could get wider hardwood slats, oh, lord, they cost a FORTUNE (the tree-hugger in me is grateful that wood isn't cheap). We could get flat wide bunjee straps for underneath the slats to counteract the bowing. Hm, the wide black stretches exactly *this* much, aw crap that is NOT enough, and the round ones stretch enough but give me the willies cuz they'll be under so much stress. How about an aluminum square pipe? HOLY CRAP $28.95? Ok, how about this anodized support thingie over here? You don't think that it'll be strong enough, and mounting will be a PITA. OK. What about this pipe? Well, we could cannibalize the pipe from that monstrosity that dipshit H made and generously gave to us when he made something better for himself, him and his USELESS Industrial Arts POS degree, which means that everything he touches is jerry-rigged at best and pathetic at worst. Right, yes, you are right, I forgot that a 2x4 underneath won't work, as there is not enough space for it to rest on the supporting boards.
We spent enough time at Lowe's for the sun to set, and finally agreed that we would go with the bungee cords, and milk crates. Cripes. My beautiful bed design, mangled and abused and twitched enough to make me nervous about sleeping on it, much less screw on it. Argh.
Stained all of the remaining wood, including the shelf and banner poles and cross bar, in the dark, in the carport, while hubby set up the bed with the bungee and slats, and I rolled into it sans mattress to test. He pointed out that the slats bowed out most dramatically under my ass, and was rewarded later with a solid punch on the thigh when he wasn't paying attention. I managed to spatter stain on my leg, at which MIL suggested that I could drench myself in the remainder and look like I had a tan.
Ha ha.
Got home just before midnight, caught up on email, and crawled into bed, falling asleep a touch after midnight. And woke up with no alarm, and the clock proclaiming 8:20am. Yes, 8:20am, the time when I normally LEAVE for the office. The simple word spoken on my part was "oops" and bolted up for the shower. Discovered that once again the POS clock had made itself fast, and it was actually ONLY 8:10am, for the brief grace that offered. But I was out the door in 16 minutes, dressed, deoderanted and teeth brushed, if not with my hair either brushed or washed as I'd hoped. Ugh. Clearly didn't need coffee, or any other stimulant, and was grateful that there was a Quaker bar unclaimed, since all of the fruit was still rock-hard and unripened. Stupid fruit.
Gee, I'm tired now that the adrenaline has worn off, wonder why?
I realized yesterday that I have one weekend until Pennsic, and it's beginning to creep up on my brain that I am running out of time. Gotta pull my sacred list and get a-packin'! Uh huh, think I'll finish my computer game, sew later.....
Heh.
Was reading an order discussion last night, and read, without naming names of course, to hubby in OUTRAGE. Seems a candidate had made the food for someone's vigil, and the food was all yummy, and there was plenty of it. And said someone extolled the virtues of the candidate, explaining that they had chosen to make certain foods in a modern way because of food allergies, primarily the food allergies of a royal peer. And I barked at the monitor, and hubby smiled at me and said "TELL HER TO GET HER OWN PROTEIN BARS!"
Ok, if you don't know the backstory to that, it's not funny. But if you know the people involved, it's fucking hilarious.
It's so lame to be so oblique, so sorry.
I don't repeat gossip. So listen carefully....
Hubby and I went to Lowe's and agonized over solutions for slat support. We could get wider hardwood slats, oh, lord, they cost a FORTUNE (the tree-hugger in me is grateful that wood isn't cheap). We could get flat wide bunjee straps for underneath the slats to counteract the bowing. Hm, the wide black stretches exactly *this* much, aw crap that is NOT enough, and the round ones stretch enough but give me the willies cuz they'll be under so much stress. How about an aluminum square pipe? HOLY CRAP $28.95? Ok, how about this anodized support thingie over here? You don't think that it'll be strong enough, and mounting will be a PITA. OK. What about this pipe? Well, we could cannibalize the pipe from that monstrosity that dipshit H made and generously gave to us when he made something better for himself, him and his USELESS Industrial Arts POS degree, which means that everything he touches is jerry-rigged at best and pathetic at worst. Right, yes, you are right, I forgot that a 2x4 underneath won't work, as there is not enough space for it to rest on the supporting boards.
We spent enough time at Lowe's for the sun to set, and finally agreed that we would go with the bungee cords, and milk crates. Cripes. My beautiful bed design, mangled and abused and twitched enough to make me nervous about sleeping on it, much less screw on it. Argh.
Stained all of the remaining wood, including the shelf and banner poles and cross bar, in the dark, in the carport, while hubby set up the bed with the bungee and slats, and I rolled into it sans mattress to test. He pointed out that the slats bowed out most dramatically under my ass, and was rewarded later with a solid punch on the thigh when he wasn't paying attention. I managed to spatter stain on my leg, at which MIL suggested that I could drench myself in the remainder and look like I had a tan.
Ha ha.
Got home just before midnight, caught up on email, and crawled into bed, falling asleep a touch after midnight. And woke up with no alarm, and the clock proclaiming 8:20am. Yes, 8:20am, the time when I normally LEAVE for the office. The simple word spoken on my part was "oops" and bolted up for the shower. Discovered that once again the POS clock had made itself fast, and it was actually ONLY 8:10am, for the brief grace that offered. But I was out the door in 16 minutes, dressed, deoderanted and teeth brushed, if not with my hair either brushed or washed as I'd hoped. Ugh. Clearly didn't need coffee, or any other stimulant, and was grateful that there was a Quaker bar unclaimed, since all of the fruit was still rock-hard and unripened. Stupid fruit.
Gee, I'm tired now that the adrenaline has worn off, wonder why?
I realized yesterday that I have one weekend until Pennsic, and it's beginning to creep up on my brain that I am running out of time. Gotta pull my sacred list and get a-packin'! Uh huh, think I'll finish my computer game, sew later.....
Heh.
Was reading an order discussion last night, and read, without naming names of course, to hubby in OUTRAGE. Seems a candidate had made the food for someone's vigil, and the food was all yummy, and there was plenty of it. And said someone extolled the virtues of the candidate, explaining that they had chosen to make certain foods in a modern way because of food allergies, primarily the food allergies of a royal peer. And I barked at the monitor, and hubby smiled at me and said "TELL HER TO GET HER OWN PROTEIN BARS!"
Ok, if you don't know the backstory to that, it's not funny. But if you know the people involved, it's fucking hilarious.
It's so lame to be so oblique, so sorry.
I don't repeat gossip. So listen carefully....
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