I needed wire cutters for my thin cable.
Papi went through every option in our cold room ...
... a room where all the 'extras' are kept along with a freezer and tools ...
... and kept coming at me with clamps and vice grips.
Big grips, small clamps, grips with adjustments, clamps with locks.
Clamps and vice grips. Not wire cutters.
"Never mind, " Papi reassured me, "I'm pretty sure this little area at the back is supposed to cut wire. I had wire cutters somewhere, I just don't know what happened to them."
Papi went to town trying to cut my cable. All it did was bend and fray the section of my wires I wanted cut, so they wouldn't fit into the hole of the crimp I needed to fit the cut end into.
So, after I'd given up on my love and just used a crimper to try to squeeze the frayed end flat, Papi comes back into the room with a hack saw.
I'd already cut my thumb with a knife while making my dinner. I didn't want to actually lose a limb for this little wire.
oh, btw, if you cut yourself while preparing veggies, and some of it gets on the food, but you cook it anyway, is that considered cannibalism?
Yes, it's DIY household on the rampage again.
I managed to get that little bastard into the whole of the crimp, but stopped at that point.
I'm really not cut out for crafty things. I was so angry, I was ready to shove the frayed wire up the ass of Satan.
I need to stick to music and writing.
However, after my failed attempt at finishing off my homemade towel cables, we decided to put the handles on the cupboards in our kitchen.
yes ... this should've been done months ago ... life's busy, ya know?
I was there to monitor measuring to get them in the perfect spot. We had spoken about this team work as a way to conquer our home DIY projects. I would measure, and Papi would cut, drill or whatever needed to be done.
We measured with utter preciseness, and Papi drilled the first hole. It wasn't big enough to fit the screw in. My love kept upping the size of the drill until finally something worked.
By this point, the two of us were thinking we'd be spending the next year trying to get these cupboards done to perfection, and we were sweating.
who knew that drilling and holding things in place would create a sweat?!?!
It was at that moment that my love dissed the measuring tape. "We'll just hope for the best."
I was not impressed, "But sweety, we need to measure to make sure it looks right! That's what we decided!"
I was then reduced to being a tool holder.
A fucking tool holder.
shall i get my fucking Vanna White gown on?!?!?
Terrified that we'd have crooked handles all over the kitchen, I would periodically check up on my love by keeping myself 'busy' sweeping the wood shavings off the floor.
It looked like I was doing something else, but my control freak eyes were watching the tranny with the tools.
Yup. I was hoping for the best all right.
It seems that's how it always ends with our DIY projects.
As for my wires, mi esposo recommended that I try doing it while I'm not PMSing. Apparently, I was scaring my love.
That didn't move me as much as the fact that I was also scaring the one eye, who was crawling on his belly trying to hide under out TV trays that are also a makeshift coffee table, a blog writing surface and a collector of the 'ToDo' list.
Does this really sound like we're ready to move to the Dominican Republic and build our own house?
Well, at least I'll have good entertainment.