When furniture attacks....

Being a homeowner is dangerous. I’m serious. I haven’t been injured this much since I was about 6, and regularly fell off my bike and various playground equipment. I feel like I am covered head to toe with bruises, cuts, scrapes, little puncture wounds from where I step on things, etc. House (that’s my house’s name, original, isn’t it?) has used me for its punching bag. I brought most of it on myself, though. So I guess I can’t completely blame House. You see, readers, andie and home projects don’t get along so well. My experience with repairing “home things” is laughably limited. Most of the time, I will just stand there and look at whatever object I’ve broken, poke it a few times, and, if no response from poking, sit on the couch and wait for Mike. When he arrives, I would promptly declare that this thing is broken! And please fix it. Quickly. Anything more advanced than changing a lightbulb (and sometimes I didn’t even do that! Hey, stop judging me. I’m only 5’2’’, and most lightbulbs are way up there) and I am lost.

However, andiepants decided to turn over a new leaf after becoming an illustrious homeowner. My first task was to assemble a two drawer-shelving unit that we bought to house some of our clothes. I insisted that I handle this project BY MYSELF. I guess I wanted to prove to Mike and Scout and myself that I was capable of wielding a screwdriver without the world exploding. I methodically worked for 2 hours, carefully following each direction, matching part A with part G, using screw 9. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of following crappy directions (that was my first lesson in homeowner-ship.. whenever things don’t turn out right, blame directions. Check), I had both the external frame and two drawers assembled. I turned to Mike with a triumphant smirk, lifted the drawers into the frame and ! of course they didn’t fit. Not even close. Crap! Upon further inspection, I had screwed (and nailed) the frame on backward, which andiepants should have noticed by the appearance of the unfinished edges, which were now unceremoniously displaying themselves on the top of the frame. Ah! Crap! I then had to go back and unscrew most of the frame and pry up the nails that I had smugly driven in. While cursing, and desperately trying to wedge my screwdriver underneath the f*%&ing nails, the screwdriver just happened to “slip” and slice into my hand. I am convinced that this was intentional and that the drawer and screwdriver were both conspiring against me. Really! Who cuts themselves with a screwdriver? Apparently I do. Anyway, I managed to resurrect the shelving unit into its intended form. Success, but not without quite a fight.

Here is another indicator that House hates me already. I decided that I would like to concentrate on making one room an andie sanctuary, because I was feeling very anxious about the unsettled-ness of House. So on Saturday morning, andiepants work up early, guzzled coffee, munched on cheerios and set to work on the office. I had great plans for this room! Books, candles, photos, yoga, music, etc, woo hoo! The first step to transforming this chaotic room into a peaceful office was to move the seven foot tall black bookshelf about six feet over so that the closets would be accessible and the room would be opened up. I quickly took all of the books and various other trinkets off the shelves, cleared a path and got ready to rock and roll. I grasped the bookshelf around the middle, bent my knees and lifted, slowly dragging the bookshelf to the left. As I did, the lower left leg of the bookshelf dug itself into the carpet and promptly cracked off. The bookshelf lurched to the side with me wrapped around it, like two drunken college students in a brawl. I managed to win that battle and was able to prop the now crippled bookshelf up against the wall, wedging in the computer chair to support it. My poor fingers were caught between the shelves and received the brunt of the trauma, with a nasty gash and big bruise. Well, crap. This was not part of my plan. I thought long and hard about what to do. At first, I decided to follow andie protocol. So I stared at it, ascertained that it was indeed broken, blamed the directions, poked it, and then figured I would wait for Mike.

But hey, why not try something different? I thought back to my determined and industrious almost husband, who fixed a splintered bench using about thirty L brackets and a whole lot of tenacity. If he could fix a bench that had been nearly obliterated, I could surely fix one leg of a bookshelf. Feeling renewed and confident, I set to work. I installed two L brackets from the main frame of the bookshelf to the top of the broken leg, using a power drill. I made sure that it was lined up correctly, and then installed two long screws into the bottom part of the leg, attaching it to the other side of the main frame to give it additional support. I then replaced the cardboard backing and slowly, carefully, backed it into position. I tested the bookshelf for stability by pushing it from side to side, and placing just a few books on it. The bookshelf held its ground! Huzzah! Andie 1, bookshelf 0! Take that!

I slowly and carefully loaded all of our books, scrap books, framed photos, etc, onto newly fixed bookshelf, taking care to make sure it wasn’t beginning to list to one side. Mike came home from his hiking trip, a tired Scout in tow, and I strutted around like a proud rooster, boasting about my incredible repair skills. I pushed him into the office to observe my masterpiece. I ran over to the bookshelf to excitedly point to where I had installed the L brackets and screws, and in my excitement, I ever so slightly knocked into the wounded bookshelf. I regret not having the foresight to video tape what happened next, because it would have made YouTube explode. As I bumped into the shelf, it began to list toward the side with the broken leg. Oh no!! As if in slow motion, I lunged to save it, and ended up getting hit in the face several times with text books as they plummeted off the now crumpling book shelf. The bookshelf exploded into splinters of parts, screws breaking off and shooting into the air, as I tried to protect myself from falling scrapbooks, picture frames and the pointiest books in the world. Attack of the college memorabilia!! It’s raining Tom Robbins and Steinbeck!! Take cover!! The disaster ended with the bookshelf no longer standing, but piled in a sad heap on the floor, and andiepants cursing wildly at it. Andie 0, bookshelf 1. 

I stood there for a few minutes, letting my cursing run its course, and burst into tears. Mike, knowing me as well as he does, promptly removed me from the situation. We went and had lunch at a local restaurant, and my chicken quesidilla tempered some of my anger toward the bookshelf. We returned to the house after I had cooled off, and removed the remnants of the bookshelf. I was able to carry on and complete setting up the office and turn it into a room in which I can relax, but unfortunately my books now reside on the floor. I’m not sure that I’m going to be able to get a new bookshelf. I may be prejudiced toward all bookshelves for the rest of my life and assume that they are all going to attack me.

I’m a little nervous to see what House has in store for me in the weeks and months to come. If my injuries in the last two and a half weeks are any indication, I am going to be one beat up andiepants.

Be happy and happy belated mothers day to everyone, especially my mama.

Andiepants.

homeownin' andiepants.

I became a homeowner on Friday April 22nd. Well, actually right now, I’m an unofficial homeowner, because its mike’s name on the paperwork, not mine. We figured that it was easier that way, because I don’t want it to be my maiden name on the paperwork, and then have to change it all over in September. So yes, readers, I can hear your cynical minds clicking away already… because my cynical mind already beat you to it. Is this really just a mike-ploy to have sole ownership of the house just in case I become intolerably annoying? Technically, since my name is not on the paperwork yet, he can kick me out when I become intolerably annoying. Quite a conundrum for andiepants. What to do, you ask? Well my plan of action for the next 4 months will be to try really hard not to leave my clothes everywhere, stop making up silly songs, take the dog out often, attempt to cook dinner every once in a while, etc etc etc. Mostly just try to do things that will distract him enough from me being intolerably annoying to ensure my safety in said house. Brilliant! However, once I sign Mrs. Andrea Caggiano (ooooh! Exciting! But I have to put some time in learning how to pull off those double g’s in my new signature… right now they look like a kindergartener… with her left hand….using finger paint) on that little dotted line, its on! Try and kick me out now, mikeyface! I will plant myself on the couch, guzzle bons bons while I watch Dog the Bounty Hunter marathons and yell loudly from my perch “Miiiiiiiiiiike, when are you going to clean the kiiiiiiiiiiiiitchen?” muahahahhahaha!

I’ll take a moment from evil giggling to share with you all my experience of this most recent move. I believe I can best express it in one word: holyshiticantbelieveihavethismuchstuffwherethefuckdiditallcomefrom.

That word (yes, it’s a word. Do you think I would lie to you and just invent words? Well, yes, I would, but in this case it’s a word. Go ahead, look it up in the dictionary. Beside this word, you’ll find a picture of me from moving weekend, sifting through all of my belongings while contemplating suicide) kept cycling in my head for the entire weekend, and continues to make regular loops today. But seriously. Where and when did I accumulate all of these….things? I’m truly frightened not because of the amount of stuff that I have now, but my potential for accumulating more crap. I’m only 25, people. Hopefully I have at least 40 more years of accumulating crap. If that tlc show Hoarders is still around when andiepants has to wear depends and get bifocals, I will totally be on it. You’ll see me, buried in a mountain of books, shoes and half finished craft projects, drowning in my own superfluous crap. Ah! Terrifying. I’ll just have to guard against this by having andie-sales every five years or so. Don’t worry. I’ll let you know when I begin to enact this policy. I’ll send out coupons.

Mike and I spent the entire weekend cleaning and moving. Friday night was filled with the delightful task of cleaning the house that we had just purchased. As previously mentioned in one of these posts, I have lived in 9 different living spaces that I did not own. As such, I had to clean them before I returned them to their owner. Ok, I know I’m not the best cleaner in the world when it comes to my own belongings and abode, but when it belongs to someone else, especially if they have been a good landlord, I can clean the pants off of an apartment. And I don’t expect everyone to follow my exemplary (if I do say so myself) example of cleaning their living space, but I have never in my life experienced the level of ickiness that the tenants left our house in. Ick-y. There were piles of clothes in the backyard, a package of tortillas in the front yard (a customary greeting in New Mexico? I think not…. Just icky), garbage outside everywhere and the inside was even worse. We rented a steam cleaner from the grocery store and deep cleaned every inch of the carpets. Tangent alert: does anyone else love steam cleaners? Because I do. Its so fun making little patterns in the carpet with the cleaner. You can make straight lines, or go the crop circle route. Perhaps write your name or a message to a friend. However, since turning with a steam cleaner is difficult and cumbersome, this might not work so well. Anyway, if you’ve never taken a spin with a steam cleaner, I’d recommend it. I’m sure that you can find a dirty floor somewhere and give it a whirl!

Mike and I soldiered on Friday night and declared war on the ickiness. Saturday saw M and I moving all of our belonging, down to the last Q tip, from the transition house to our new house. What a day! In addition to being physically exhausting, it was an emotional roller coaster. Mike and I would have moments of exhilarating motivation and enthusiasm, beaming with pride about our new house and we loaded boxes into Howie. We would high five each other on the way back to transition house to collect more things, declaring, “we could do this all day!” Ten minutes later, we were dragging, shuffling our feet on the way back to get more boxes, growling and snapping at each other. After an entire day spent schlepping our things back and forth, we deposited our boxes in the living room, set up our bed and fell asleep. Sunday was a better day. We decided to divide and conquer, so I was elected to clean the transition house, while Mike tackled our new house. I actually had a pretty good time cleaning the other house. The couple who had allowed us to stay there had gone so out of their way for us, displaying a type of generosity and community that we had never seen before, so it was easy for me to feel positive and thankful as I cleaned. And friends, I cleaned the hell out of that place. I left a shine so bright that entering this house might require welding goggles.

Following the cleaning to end all cleanings, I joined mike at our house and started the process of putting things away. We remembered that we have to eat, and made our way to one of the local restaurants where I devoured a burger and fries platter. Not just ate, devoured. I’m pretty sure I just lowered my face within several inches of the plate and it was swept away, like a big tornado when it encounters cows. Refueling at its core. The rest of Sunday saw us slowly but surely start to unpack our belongings into their new homes. It’s going to be quite a process, but we are slowly .... slowwwwwlllly.... setting up our home.

Be happy,

Andie.