Today I changed another bathroom faucet. It's not like it's brain surgery, and it's not like it's serious heavy labor, but it leaves a definite pain in my ass. Actually, it left a definite pain in my hands. I think I injured my hands in just about every way that it's possible with a wrench (torture excluded). I'm not what you'd call extremely mechanically inclined. I can read instructions, and I can even improvise a few things, but no plumber is ever going to concern himself with competing against my work. I guess at least when you turn on the faucet, water comes out. It even gets down the drain without puddling somewhere it's not supposed to, but truly I hate this kind of shit. I've become quite good at furniture repair (courtesy of five years working at an auction house/antiques shop), and I can now install light fixtures like a pro, but put me in position under some pipes or wiring, or give me a drywall patch to do, and I become about as useful and cranky as a six year old who hasn't eaten in the last ten hours. I'm not sure what the next project will be. It's either going to be kitchen renovation or tearing out our deck and building a new one. Of course, we still need to replace the ceiling in the other bathroom (see the Homeownership blog) which will also necessarily include tearing down the wallpaper and splashing some paint on the walls, and probably putting down new flooring. That's assuming that my piece of shit Volvo doesn't completely break down before I get to any of those things. (My next blog: My Piece Of Shit Volvo)
Talk to ya later.
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