today we set off to remove the Grievous Sore Of 70's Decrepitude and Poor Taste that is our gas fireplace insert. our house was built in the 40's and the fireplace surround is gorgeous but, like a pustular throbbing carbuncle on the face of heidi klum, from its angular golden face arises a metallic beige and brown Thing that can only be described as an Abomination. it easily takes up more than a square meter of floor space and inspires fear and trepidation, not to mention mild chronic gastrointestinal upset.
the tile job that surrounds our fireplace does little to alter our attitude: in what was doubtlessly a charitable and selfless act, the previous owner commissioned it from the local chapter of Special Slow Blind Uncoordinated Amputees.
so on the agenda for today was
1. attaching curtain rods in the kitchen and
2. removing the Abomination.
the curtain rods did eventually get attached, after much wailing and gnashing of teeth (on my part) and much running around and doing everything else but (on mister monkey's part). the removal of the Abomination got underway around 8pm. yeah, i know.
to add interest and a certain je ne sais quoi to today's proceedings, mister monkey decided to channel rainman on coke. there was twitching, there was random repetition, more twitching, running back and forth and organizing the garage (for fucksakes!), and then there was yet more twitching, followed by the doing of things that could easily be done some other time, or possibly never.
the man spent the whole day in the garage, twitching his way through our entire collection of slightly used toilet tanks and random bits of Very Useful Wood, lengths of pipe, and lots and lots of wires. want some wires? we have lots! free for the taking!
around 8 o'clock, after some of the twitching had subsided, mister monkey opened his second beer and went at the gas installation, because the only thing better than messing with possibly lethal machinery, is doing it drunk. at least then if you get blown to kingdom come, you'll be all relaxed about it: yo, st. peter, how's it hangin' my man?
don't get me wrong. i trust mister monkey's expertise in the home renovating department without reservations. there are few other people i'd trust to reno my house. it's just that today was a very trying day. good night.