What a Tool!

Hey, Wednesday. I’m over you.

So, my dad is looking for a jigsaw my brother may or may not have borrowed last year, that he may or may not have left at our house when he moved out. Given my supreme capabilities in assembling complicated IKEA furniture, I thought I would know what a jigsaw was. I did not. So, like any other rational, normal person, I come home from work very angry that I’m the one who needs to look for it. I get home and tear open our front hall closet (where the jigsaw may or may not be). Now, this is no ordinary closet, with shelves, hooks, and general organization. No. It’s quite literally a death trap. I opened the door, and the bottom of a ski pole nearly stabbed me in the jugular. So, 4 poles, 6 skis, and 1 golf bag later, I had managed to get into the closet.

Long story short, I threw away FOUR large cardboard boxes filled with garbage. All of which, including the cardboard boxes, came from the closet. The good news is, I found not one, but two feather boas. Score! But my victory was short-lived. After calling my dad, I discovered that the tool I found dangling by its cord from a box of ping pong paddles was in fact, NOT a jigsaw. Silly me. I should have known that that’s where we keep our CIRCULAR saw.

Okay, so I don’t find the saw. The frustration of my fruitless search built up in me and I tore through my house throwing away everything that wasn’t nailed down. And after washing the floors, vacuuming, washing the wood, moving the rugs around, and de-stinking the couches, I finally sit down. I haven’t eaten dinner yet. My arms are weak from moving furniture around. Two and a half hours of hard core cleaning in our 80 degree house. I look around, and Nothing. Looks. Different. It was like finding the stupid Circular Saw all over again.

So, I wrapped my newly-found black feather boa around my neck, sat in the quiet living room, lit an apple-scented candle and cracked open a beer. Clean or not, it’s turning into a pretty nice night at home.