and don't tell me there's anything out there better than quality german sausages. i find the plural charmingly dirty. like euro-porn with large hairy blond men and rosy-cheeked helgas going at it in the barn. and if you think i'm kidding, i believe i have a copy somewhere on the hard drive. though i think they might be swedish, judging from their muppet-chef pre- and post-coital chatter.
what i did on the weekend
what i did on the weekend was gettin high off polystrippa, developing a deep and intimate relationship with the staff at home depot (mitchell from the contractors' desk, this one's for you!) and sanding drywall.
i find it ironic that the same man who will not allow me to carry groceries or unpack the car after a trip, has no qualms whatsoever about getting me to haul shitloads of 2x4's up and down the stairs, yanking rusted nails out of 300 year old wood, and mopping toxic chemicals off the floor with a piece of rag formerly known as an IKEA duvet cover.
renovations rock. what was to be over and done in two weekends is barely begun and sweetly naive* questions from mothers on both sides of the equation of the "are you done yet?" variety have the tendency to evoke a bitter guffaw bordering on sob.
i sand drywall and curse.
but hey! mister monkey and i rented a floor sander to remove paint from the concrete floor (definitely NOT on our to do list at the project's outset) and it sure was a hoot watching the sander jerk him around the room, repeatedly running full strength into one paricular bit of wall as the man tried his darndest to tame the beast, the desperation in his eyes making it clear that one more sander-wall collision would surely result in me returning to the sysiphean task of chipping at the damn paint with a chisel which, though eventually effective, averages about a square inch an hour. or thereabouts.
also, our previous owner/present tenant seems mired in builder related difficulties and will be remaining with us for the next couple of weeks, possibly months, which though comforting (we can continue renovations while having a paying tenant) makes me a tad nervous because i am really wanting to know what the upstairs looks like. buying a house is a ridiculous process made worse by our tact and delicacy (you shut your gob and quit your grinnin', we are so tactful and delicate, just not to your undeserving ass!) which prevents us from going upstairs and looking at our new place while the tenant is at work and i am going nuts because i want to see what it was that we bought during our momentary possession by mammon.
*hell, let's be honest here, while mr. m's mama can do sweetly naive honestly and well, mine was last naive (especially sweetly so) in her elementary years. when you hear sweetly naive from my mama, you run for the hills, sister, because things are about to get baaaad.