The Demise of Organizational Confidence

Recent conversation in my home:

(Scene: I'm sitting on the couch in the living room watching Sofia The First with Allie and watching my husband as he prepares to fix our coat rack. Multiple trips have been made to and from the garage as he collects the tools necessary for the job)

Me:  (taking a double take as Justin walks past for the final time)You need a HATCHET to hang a coat rack????

Justin:  (eyeing up the wall with his back to me)  I couldn't find a hammer.  It's the best I could do.

Me:  WHAT?

Justin:  What?

Me:  You're a tool guy and you can't find a hammer?

Justin:  (still looking at the wall)  Yeah.

Me:  And you don't find that ODD?

Justin:  How can you expect me to find a hammer in that mess?

Me: I can't believe you can't find a basic tool like a hammer.  Aren't you ashamed of yourself?

Justin:  (pause)  Maybe a little.

Installation commenced.  Seriously, folks.... he used the hatchet.  Totally true story.

I tell you this story because for the past seven years, Mr. I Sold Tools For A Living has been arguing with me about our garage being a mess.  His arguments have changed over the years.  I think he slowly started to accept the facts.  For your amusement, here are the most frequently heard retorts to my accusations:

2006:    "It's not THAT bad.  All of this stuff is seriously important."

2007 - 2013: "It's a little messy.....but I know where all my shit is."

2008:    "I think we might to need to get out there and clean the garage."

2010:    "Damn....it's like training camp for an episode of hoarders out there."

2012:    "The garage is getting pretty bad."

2014:    "I can't find ANYTHING."

The 2014 statement occurred only after we had an organizer come and "just look" at the situation.  Apparently, all it took was a professional person with great organization skills, who could speak to him in gentle tones, to drive this point home.

I'd love to post a photo of our garage, but I can't and the reason is two-fold.  One, it's such an embarrassing disaster and I'm afraid you'll judge ME along with him.  Two,  allegedly we have stuff of value in there (or he's just lying so I won't throw everything away while he isn't home) and I don't wanna brag!  (as if you really give a shit about tools)  So, that's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Let me post some supporting photo documentation to go with the story above before I wrap this up:

The tools necessary to REhang the coat hanger.  Notice the HATCHET.  I wonder how confident he would be about me hanging photos with a bunch of nails and a hatchet.

Speaking of nails..... notice the thing-a-ma-jig, whatchacallit, do-dads here.  Our garage looks like a tornado hit it.... multiple times..... yet his little parts and stuff are perfectly organized in a bunch of carriers like this.  I don't get it.  Did he exhaust his organizational skills with small parts?

Sad sad coat hanger.  For the fourth time, he points out that the rack has too many coats on it.  My question was "Don't you have a stud finder?"  (The responses are always eye-rollers.)  The little hanging whozeewhatzees above are supposed to help you hang stuff when you can't find a stud.   I think we can label this method as A FAIL  (not yet of epic proportions)

Removal of our overused coat rack for the 4th time.  I know the amount of times from the three holes in the wall.  I think we may be putting too many coats on the rack.... maybe..... I think.  I'll have you know that the rack is back on the wall and all of the coats are on it again.  We're blond, you know?  It takes us awhile to catch on.

Here's a photo of my little princess.  She helped me walk Tallulah today.  I love it when we get to spend time together in the middle of the day.  Aren't they both beautiful?

DISCLAIMER:  The previous story in no way indicates that my husband is unable to do handyman projects.  He gutted and remodeled a kitchen, two bathrooms and a bunch of walls and ceilings....which he had never done before.  He's a "let me wing it first and see how it goes" kinda guy.  I'm beyond impressed with his mechanical abilities.  I love you, dear!

NOTATION:  I once hung up a two foot wide shelf when my first husband was at work.  I used a level, NUMEROUS screws, bolts, nails (for screw reinforcement), a hammer, an electric drill, a chalk thingy to draw a line, and a hammer (NOT a hatchet).  He came home, put a book on it and the shelf felt forward about three inches from the wall.  After forbidding me to touch any more electrical tools in the house, collecting himself from laughing at me, AND removing the shelf and supporting items, he taught me about WALL ANCHORS.  Thank you, Ron, for this very valuable piece of homeowner knowledge that I will never forget.   P.s. I still have no idea how to use them!

If you clickity click on the banner below, it will seem like nothing happened, but it did!  You can close the window as soon as it opens if you like.  T'anks peeps!

Cactus Day Helpers Cool Off the Northeast

This is our very disturbing local forecast for a part of this week:

The rest of the week pretty much looks the same. Mudder
 flucker.

Why do I find this disturbing?

Please look at the little icon between Wed Day and 93 degrees.  Do you see
it?  It's not so big so you may have to get close to the screen to really see the problem.

The picture is a blazing hot sun with a cactus.   I live in the Northeast.

Cacti are NOT indigenous to our area!  That is NOT a good sign.

If it's going to be so hot that we are going to have cacti sprouting up all over the place, I'm so totally screwed! 

I suppose the cactus is appropriate considering it's my own personal Hell Week.  Maybe cacti will be flying up out of the ground.  Perhaps it's a side effect of hell freezing over; all of that cold air is pushing Hell's cacti up?  I've been watching the forecast since last week, fretting as each Regular Summer Day gets upgraded to Sunny Cactus Day.

Today, at the peak of the hot weather, I got locked out of a house.  The dog is panting, I have sweat rolling from the top of my head down, the dog just wants to lay down, I feel lightheaded, and as I reach for the doorknob, it's not budging.

A thought hit me like a sickening ton of bricks.  'My car key is inside with the key to the house and my phone is in my car.' Ugh.

I try the door again.  It's still not budging.  Damn persistent locked door!

Oh. My. God.  Really?  Now?!  It's skatey-eight kajillion degrees, for cripes sake!!

(Im working on curbing my foul language by substituting it with other less effective words since Allie has started repeating everything we say.)

A neighbor was home, thank God, so I borrowed their phone to call Justin.  I explained my drama and Mr. Don't Worry Everything Will Be Fine says, "Give me a few minutes.  I'll be there."

I sat under a tree with the dog and just stared at the ground, feeling driplets of sweat rolling down my everywhere!  As gross as I felt, at least I'm not walking around with a full length fur coat on like the poor girl laying at my feet was.

I hear the car pull up and two doors shut.  I hear Justin say, "C'mon, Al.  Do you have your tool box?"

"Yes, Daddy.  I can help Mommy too!"

And from around the corner comes Mr. Hear I Come To Save The Day and his trusty assistant with her tools.  It was so precious that it took by breath away.

She's my own kid, who I see perform cute acts on a regular basis, and I still couldn't get over it.  I had to take pictures with Justin's phone.  As I took this one, she said very seriously, "It's not funny."  She was NOT fooling around!

She got her toolbox from her Grandma (Justin's mom) and it's one of her favorite things.  I guess since it's in the blood (tool man's daughter) I should not be surprised.  Her little hammer, saw, screwdriver, wrench, nuts and bolts are in there.  The ultimate tool as in her other hand.

A spaghetti measurer.

That was the one that had me giggling.  I don't know what she thinks it is, but she thinks it's entirely necessary to get me back in the house.  And she doesn't think it's a laughing matter.

In the midst of my day, in what could easily be Hell's Bathroom, this sweet little ray of sunshine appeared.  Getting locked out of the house, sweating like a pig, feeling helpless.....none of it mattered and it was all washed away, leaving me smiling from ear to ear. The drama ain't got nothing on Daddy's Little Helper.  

May your Hellacious Cactus Days be filled with Refreshing Handyman Assistants too!