I love to build. Been doing it since I was old enough to hold a hammer. And I've always thought that I was pretty good at it. Most people don't expect a little girl to be able to use a chop saw with the same proficiency she uses a blowdryer. Wait, I'm not sure I should make that analogy. I hate blowdrying. Never mind.
In any case. I love to build. But seldom to I get to actually see myself doing it. I just suit up and go.
I'm in the middle of an apartment rearrangement frenzy. More on that later. Just got home actually, and will be off to IKEA to purchase bed slats as soon as I finish this post. And walk the dog. And start the laundry. Ugh. Why am I blogging? There is entirely too much to do! Anyway, I spent the last week in Lockhart with the parental units. I arrived prepared, with my sketch and my measurements. Dad and I headed off to Lowes where we bought lumber, glue, and brand new sanding belts.
(Why does Lowes hide the hacksaw blades with the tape measures? That is what I want to know.)
So we started building this unit of mine. And like always, I suited up and started. We took pictures. The Super Duper Cooper Pooper Puppy ran off into the pond and came back soaking wet. It was a good time. Then it happened.
I saw myself in the door. And it hit me. I look like the Unibomber.
Building requires a few special considerations for me.
1. This is Texas. It's hot as hell. And it's only May. MAY, people, and we're already hitting temperatures of over 90 degrees. I might as well be building inside of my oven. Though that would be tough. The oven is small. So that lovely shine you see? I don't naturally glisten like that, no. It's sweat. And sunscreen. Because I am a sunscreen nazi. Hmmm, my second politically incorrect joke of the post. Perhaps I should leave now and just go to IKEA before I offend all my readers. Ahem. My one reader. Are you offended yet? No? Okay.
2. I am allergic to sawdust. And grass. And mold and oak and pecan andhayandpollenandLIFE. Building outside is like opening my sinuses for a house party and inviting three-year-olds. Then giving them hammers. And that isn't any fun at all. My sinuses, like my oven, are small. I don't have room for hammer-wielding three-year-olds in there.
3. I have OCD. I wasn't kidding when I said that last time. What it means is that I can't deal with dirt on my hands. Dirt bothers me. Germs bother me. BIG TIME. Wood glue on my skin? No way. I'd be washing my hands for the next three weeks.
You think I'm kidding. I'm not. Just ask my former coworkers what happened when a tube of super glue exploded on my hands. It wasn't pretty.
Thus, when I build, I end up wearing heavy gloves, a mask, sunglasses, a hat, and copious amounts of sunscreen. And from the neck up? I look like the Unibomber.
I think maybe I'll start a company. The Unibomber Building Crew. We build it, we blow it up! Think it'd sell? No? Fine. I'll just stick to building television cabinets in Lockhart.
The good news is that the cabinet is coming along very nicely. I promise to post finished pictures next weekend when I get it in the apartment and painted. For now, I'm off to IKEA. If I come back alive, I'll let you know how I did. IKEA is, after all, a very dangerous place. While you're waiting - because I know you're all sitting here, waiting with bated breath for my next entry.... Right.....? Enjoy these pictures from my stay in Lockhart.
Dad demonstrates proper alignment to Mom.
Mom's Cairn, Tucker (known by many other, less appropriate, names)
crashes and burns after playing all day.
The Super Duper Cooper Pooper Puppy and The Hawkinator.
Doesn't Coop look like a perfect doofball? And Hawk, showing his