Home Improvement Diary

So Saturday morning I noticed that there was a little discolored caulk in the corner of the bathroom floor between the bathtub and the toilet, so I pulled it off and got out my caulk gun, because I am a caulk cowboy.

I was squooging the caulk in, and it just kept going, so I lifted up the vinyl tile square, and the subfloor had a little water damage, and part had crumbled away, and I was filling the basement with caulk, which would have taken like 23,000 tubes of caulk, so I figured I’d better fix the floor.

So I took off more tiles and found more water damage. So I removed the toilet and the sink. The vanity which supported the sink- as vanity supports so many of us- was made of pulverized wood scraps and glue, and did not survive the surgical removal of the sink. The flange on the toilet was made of thin plastic, and had cracked. I began removing the subfloor. I didn’t have the proper tools to cut it right next to the bathtub, but I’m good at improvising, so I just sawed through the ¾” plywood with a steak knife. All that was left was the bathtub and the floor joists, no floor at all, once I was done ripping everything out.

Went to the Der HardWareHaus, which sucks, bought a new vanity with sink attached, some plywood for the subfloor, wax ring for the toilet, flange repair plate, vinyl tiles and various fittings and stuff. Got home, unpacked the vanity and there was a big scratch down the front of it. Took it back to Der HardWareHaus, which sucks, exchanged it, checked the vanity before I left the store, took it home, unpacked it, the sink was chipped. Took it back to Der HardWareHaus, which sucks, exchanged it, checked the vanity and the sink, took it home, unpacked it, it was fine, so I took it back to Der HardWareHaus, which sucks, and exchanged it one more time just for the hell of it.

Chopped up and nailed down the new plywood. It really doesn’t matter how many times I measure something, my calculations are inevitably off, so I recut every section 3 times. That’s okay, because I love the thrill of the circular saw. Some people go skydiving, I use a circular saw, and the way I use it, skydivers are pusillanimous by comparison.

I nailed the new subfloor onto the joists, fit the flange repair plate and reattached the toilet. I can lift a whole toilet with the tank attached and everything, because I collect hernias. I have a small box of them in the garage. I tightened the toilet bolts until the unrepaired side of the flange broke. Went back to Der HardWareHaus, which sucks, bought a huge bolt, came home and ran the bolt clear through the cracked flange, subfloor and into the basement, where it made contact with an wire, blowing out the fuses and styling me with a handsome new afro. The lights all over my portion of the grid flickered briefly, causing the Office of Fatherland Security to presume terrorist activity and preemptively bomb a small yurt village in Mongolia so they could steal their curds.

I fixed the broken section of wire with a clothes hanger, which I ran through a plastic G.I. Joe arm for insulation. I screwed the vanity to the wall and put the sink on top. Stepped back and watched as sink and vanity toppled forward, tearing out a 4′ square of drywall. I caught the sink with my shins. Did you know, that hurts a lot, catching a sink with your shins? The upside was that I discovered a secret passage behind my wall that led to a magical world inhabited by centaurs and nubile wood nymphs. Regrettably, they had no immunity to the germs which I carried, and expired within moments of meeting me. I hope the contagion didn’t continue to spread all through that wondrous world, because I feel bad enough about the twenty or thirty fantastical creatures that I saw die before I went back to the bathroom.

I went back to Der HardWareHaus, which sucks, and bought drywall and spackle. I went back home, cut the section of drywall 3 times, installed it, reattached the vanity, tried to attach the old faucet, which didn’t fit, so I went back to Der HardWareHaus, which sucks, bought a new faucet, came home, attached it, but somehow the plumbing was brushing against an old T.V. antenna wire in the wall, and the vibrations of running water somehow sent a tiny subsonic signal into outer space, attracting the attention of the interstellar race of Giant Carnivorous Beetles who have begun to colonize the Earth, starting around Dallas. So it doesn’t matter for a while.

Then I was set to lay the new vinyl tile, but I spilled my strawberry soda pop into the latex primer, and then dripped a single drop of blood into that mixture from one of my many wounds. That particular combination of ingredients apparently turns out to be a potion which opens an interdimensional hole to some forgotten, damned realm where Unspeakable Octopoid Demon-Gods have been waiting, waiting for countless horrifying eons for the opportunity to thrust awful viscous many-toothed tentacles forth into the innocent sunlight of our World, tearing and rending the very fabric of existence as we know it, abominating and putrefying all that is pure, and good, and clean in this dimension, and forever despoiling and consuming everything, everywhere.

I guess the good thing is that even Der HardWareHaus, which sucks, will not escape their awesome, terrible and revolting vengeance.

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About nitrovonborax

The Mighty Arthammer of von Borax strikes the Anvil of Universal Consciousness, forging Iconic Singularities of Metaphor. Nitro von Borax is widely recognized as the natural heir to the crumbling facade of an empire that Thomas Kinkade built with massmarket hack-retouched cottagey papscapes, which glow as though lit by pernicious chip-grease fires within and trigger pleasurable dissociative transport to the plebian viewer. Mr. von Borax, known to his discerning, sophisticated & politically progressive fans as "The Painter of Sprinkly Sparkles," pulls inspiration from Betty & Veronica BOTH, stolen travel brochures & comic books, Martin Denny & Italian Giallo Movies to visualize and manifest pure unfettered awesomeness for your astral excursions. His portfolio resonates at a frequency only bats can hear.

Posted on December 21, 2014, in Poems and Literary Peccadillos and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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