Let’s play a game of Three Truths and a Lie, shall we?
1. I’ve never sent a text message.
2. I’ve never had a cavity.
3. I can touch my nose with my tongue.
4. I know how to open a bucket of joint compound.
#1-3 are all true. #4 is the lie. The big, big lie. In fact, a bucket of joint compound recently spent 22 minutes laughing at me.
But before I tell that story, I need to tell the necessary boring backstory. Basically, we’ve moved on from our closet for now and are focusing on the living room. This involves putting up a new ceiling because the original plaster one wasn’t in good shape, and after doing some research, (This Old House to the rescue) we decided that drywalling over it would be the best thing to do. That was done last weekend, and now I am in charge of mudding the cracks because Rick is playing the piano for the local high school musical (Legally Blonde!)and has pit band rehearsal just about every night of the week from now until the end-of-March performance. And I want my living room back. End of boring backstory.
I now present you:
22 Minutes in the Life of Erin
Or, Why Erin Needs Muscles, and Serious Help in General.
7:01. Locate giant 4.5 gallon bucket of joint compound to begin mudding the drywall cracks. Flex lack of muscles.
7:02. Attempt to move giant bucket of joint compound. Fail miserably. Think I hear soft giggling. Blame it on the cats.
7:03. Attempt to move giant bucket of joint compound again. Take a rest after moving said bucket approximately 3.72 inches.
7:06. Finally move giant bucket of joint compound the four feet into the living room.
7:07. Contemplate the need to begin lifting weights.
7:08. Notice that a safety strip needs to be pried off of the lid.
7:09. Pull on the safety strip. Pull on the safety strip again. Pull on the safety strip again and possibly detect faint snickering. Blame it on the cats.
7:11. Realize that merely pulling on the safety strip is doing nothing. Sit on the bucket and yank on the safety strip with hands tucked in sleeves because it hurts.
7:13. Fully remove safety strip with a flourishing final yank. Instant cat toy, ideal for tug-of-war.
7:14. Attempt to remove the lid. Wonder why it won’t move. Hear definite cackling emanating from someplace to the left of the instructions for use.
7:15. Realize that the little plastic sections around the edge need to be snapped up. Attempt to snap one up. Pull hands away in fear of breaking a finger. Catch a hee-haw.
7:16. Sit on the bucket and attempt to snap the sides up. Glare in the direction of the hee-haw.
7:18. Stand on bucket and attempt to snap the sides up. Shake my fist at the hee-haw.
7:20. Get the crowbar and attempt to snap the sides up. Hear a full belly laugh.
7:22. Slip with the crowbar and slice finger open. Cast a withering glance at the giggling bucket and smack it with the crowbar.
7:23. Give up and write this post instead.