I dont know about you but theres just something about having to wield a power tool before i've had a chance to pee in the morning that makes me want to take stock of my vacation hours.
When I was looking into moving in to my own place with the blondies, I didn't go so far as to envision marble top counters, white picket fences, or even a mailbox with our names on it.
I sure as HELL didn't envision fixing any damn plumbing issues before the sun had a chance to rise.
The first time I took the suped up screwdriver out of its Lincoln Electric box I very nearly caused myself a very messy belly button piercing. It packs a punch and theres just no gradual drill speed. Its either not moving or its halfway through the neighbors wall.
Picture this if you will.
Me, half asleep staggering into the small bathroom pawing the bath tub facet. Adjusting hot and cold water for optimal comfort level, reaching for the knob that runs the water up to the shower head....3 to 4 turns later my foggy brain realizing theres a slight problem. Squinting I see that the screw on the knob is a philips head screw. Ok. Noooo problem. Its prolly loose or something. Ill just grab a butter knife and unscrew it, check the inside, then put it back together and tighten it.
Half inch effin screw wont tighten enough without the butter knife prying into soft finger-flesh (is that a word?). Fine.
Clash goes the knife. It can lay there on the linoleum tile and bask in its uselessness.
'Ill just ghetto-rig it' says hazy-brained Sherlin. I just need that wrench thingy in that brown moving box. I glance in my room. 6 brown moving boxes. I stumble down the stairs. 13 brown moving boxes. Up the stairs on all fours. 3 more damnable boxes.
What the hell else can I USE??
3 Christmases ago, my father gave me a power drill from his shop down in Dania Beach. He sells power tools and welding supplies for construction workers and the likes. Whilst it was a kick ass gift...This was also the father that didn't so much allow his daughter to use a hammer in his workshop. I was always put to painting duties. Needless to say, I know a great deal about carpentry by sight but diddly squat about how to put hand to tool and not injure myself.
Power cord trailing behind me, bits in hand I walk into the bathroom all 'Say hello to my little friend' Mr. Inconsiderate Shower Knob. Thats right. I got this.
No. No I dont.
Theres no outlet in the fucking bathroom. Atleast...not on the walls. Thats right...it exists...NOT on the wall. But on the base of my light fixture.
Gheeehh Heee TOE.
The bathtub drains slowly so theres a few inches of water in there and Im wearing yoga pants. Alright. I can do this in panties right? No use in getting my pants wet. Shimmy out of those.
'Wait a second there genius' says the slowly clearing brain of mine. 'Water and power tools dont mix'
No problem (funny how I only think that when there most certainly IS a problem)
One foot in the tub. One foot outside the tub. I can just jump out quick if the thing goes for a swim right? Yea, lets just not think that one through please.
I line up the faucet knob and the screw and hand guide it a bit before its time to put some force behind this thing.
The next few seconds are like out of a movie. EVERYTHING slows down. Its just the sound of my breath and the soft clink when the bit engages the x-shaped indention in the screw. My finger tightens a hairs width on the trigger and ZIP!
I strip the top of the screw.
Ladies and gentle men...I suceeded in making my shower fully functional again and sparing my coworkers an unhappy unshowered sherlin.
The temporary adrenaline rush is building me a bitch of a migraine as it evaporates from my system and blood newly flushes the veins in my skull.
I have 46 hours of vacation time left this year. Two sick days. One personal day.
This fixing things is for the birds.