I decided to paint my kitchen cabinets this weekend. Great idea, I thought. Three solid days after Thanksgiving in which to get the job done.
FRIDAY: I emptied the contents, removed the doors, and removed the old hinges from the doors. Since I am painting the cabinets white and the hinges are currently a disgustingly dirty dark color that I think used to be copper, I will replace them with shiny new white hinges.
SATURDAY: I scrubbed the doors with TSP (kitchen grease accumulated at the bottom of doors is guh-ross,) then sanded them a bit where the old paint sloughed off to reveal the original finish. I worried that I should sand them all the way down when I saw that. I bought a good shellac-based super-duper bonding primer instead. I may live to regret it. Hopefully I will have enough money to renovate my kitchen by then.
SUNDAY: I woke early – like 5:00 am - for unpleasant reasons after having ordered the pizza for dinner Saturday night. I proceeded to go back to bed “for just a few minutes” and did not wake up until 11:00. Bugger! I only primed the back of the doors yesterday so I still have to prime the fronts and edges, finish scrubbing the gunk off the cabinet exteriors, prime the cabinet exteriors, then paint everything with the real paint at least two coats worth, which takes 4 hours to dry between coats.
It is really depressing when you need help on a project but only have one friend to call and she is out riding her motorcycle on a fine day like today.
Why don’t you people live closer!
I was first coronated about eight years ago in conjunction with a root canal. Fun! They were short handed that day so I had to sit all alone with with my mouth open for about twenty minutes because the tech installed metal measuring pins in the hole where my tooth used to be but got called away before she could actually take the measurements. I would have impaled my lower gums had I closed my mouth. The mile of rubber she previously attached as a barrier around the surrounding teeth left a nice trail for the drool to follow. Kind of like a mini Slip-and-Slide, only in winter with no actual sliders but someone left the hose on.

Not Your Usual Kid
Have you notice how everyone who writes about their child claims he or she “is not your usual kid?”
Every. Single. One.
Some of these children are brilliant: intelligent beyond their years. Others are moody, throw tantrums, cannot possibly entertain themselves unless someone else tells them what to do or, the opposite, seclude themselves in their rooms and play all alone for hours. Still others are unusually precocious.
Aside from children whose odd behavior manifests an unusual medical condition, frankly they all sound normal to me.
It makes me wonder what people think a “usual kid” is like.
I bet you were not your usual kid, were you? How
freakyunique were you? Do tell.Posted at 08:34 AM in Social Commentary | Permalink | Comments (6) | TrackBack (0)
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