I decided to not start this post with either “It was a long week …” or “It is finally the weekend …”
However, since we are always encouraged to “write what we know“, I find that I don’t really know anything other than the relief and gratefulness that the weekend brings to me.
A lot of bloggers write about their hobbies or their interests or their passions or their obsessions. I have none of those things. All I have is my desire to make it to the weekend, followed quickly by my desire for the weekend to not pass too quickly, followed even more quickly by my dread of Monday morning. Then I go back to yearning for the weekend.
I admit, it is not much to base a life on, but it has worked for me lo these many years, and so I will continue on in this rut until it is replaced by something else (most likely a furrow or a ditch).
But I have an exciting weekend planned.
Putting the “Re-” in Repair
For one thing, I am going to de-caulk and re-caulk the shower that I botched so beautifully earlier this week. You can read about it here. It was one of my more popular posts. People love it when I do stupid things. Or, more accurately, people who do not live with me love it when I do stupid things.
Flush With Success
As soon as I have come down from the delirious high of getting to re-caulk a shower that I caulked less than a week ago, I get the supreme joy of fixing a toilet. (Or, as the French call it, a toilette). I don’t know why they can’t make a flush mechanism that lasts for more than about 2 years, but they don’t. And, so the various commodes in the house take turns breaking down, which means I am stuck in a continual cycle of repairing toilets.
I hope someday that people will say about me, “he repaired a mean flush valve“.
They can carve that right next to the little faux-silver handle on the side of my tombstone.
Fresh off of my victory with the toilet, I will then ascend a ladder and repair a smoke detector that recently fell off the ceiling. I’m not sure why it did that. But I remember the incident well …
(wavy lines indicating a flashback)
It was two o’clock in the morning and the battery died in the smoke detector. A lot of people don’t know this, but every smoke detector contains within it an atomic clock that allows it, when the battery gets low, to wait until 2 AM before sounding the alarm that it needs a new battery.
So, at 2 AM I crawled sleepily up the ladder (after retrieving it from the garage) and rotated the smoke detector clockwise on its base to remove it so I could get to the battery.
Imagine my surprise when the whole shebang just came right off in my hand. The two wire nuts that wired the contraption to the house wiring fell to the floor and two exposed electrical wires now dangled from the ceiling.
My sleep-addled brain thought for half a microsecond, “I can just twist these wires back together until morning.
Luckily, the reptilian stump of my brain raised objections and filed a formal grievance with my hippocampus, so I just descended the ladder and went back to bed.
To add insult to injury, the smoke detector, though no longer connected to the house wiring, was still beeping obnoxiously, letting me know its backup batteries were low. So I took them out.
And it continued beeping for another 3 minutes.
Now THAT is dedication.
Yeah … we can use a little less of that around here.
The smoke detector displayed much more dedication than I have when it comes to putting smoke detectors back up on the ceiling. That incident happened 3 weeks ago and I’m just now going to put it back up there.
Remind me to turn off the breaker before I do that, though. The resulting smoke would go undetected.
And then someone would have to update the “____ days without an accident” sign in the living room and set it back to zero. And to think we just recently got out of single digits.
And then they could add to the tombstone mentioned above, “We told him that smoking was bad for him.”
And On the 7th Day He Did the Rest
And that’s just the exciting stuff!
There are still yards to be mowed, bushes to be trimmed, leaves to be raked, Virginia creeper to be flame-throwered, carpets to be vacuumed, errands to be run, bills to pay, and miles to go before I sleep.
And then suddenly it will be late Sunday night and I will be sitting here in this very chair and dreading the encroachment of Monday morning
But I really shouldn’t.
Because on Monday morning I get to go to work and rest up from the weekend.