Waaay back after I first moved to the grand Twin Cities and received my payout of unused vacation time from my previous employer, my girlfriend convinced me that at 24 years old I should have some appropriate adult furniture.
This will be known as mistake number one in my acclimation to being a transplant to the Twin Cities. The mistake was perusing but a few stores and deciding "Hell, yes, a furniture store in a strip mall in Burnsville will do just fine."
This is what brought us to the now-defunct Wickes Furniture.
Last week, after having the furniture just over five years, I was bitching about the couch sagging. This led me to be overly industrious on Sunday evening. I flipped the couch over, grabbed some tools and removed each of the 100-plus staples holding the black fabric under-covering to the frame.
This is when I noticed that the supports were made of plywood. Plywood which had cracked, splintered and split, leaving the less-than-qualified nails jutting from the outer frame of the low-quality couch.
Now covered in sweat, I devised a plan to craft a new arch-shaped support cross-member. I rummaged around and found a 2x4 in my scrap pile and hacked a rather crude arc using only my circular saw and my patience.
Two hours, a scraped knuckle and three long screws later I had my oddly-timed project completed.
I didn't staple the fabric back in place for two reasons. I know I'll have to do more work on this piece of crap and I couldn't find my staple gun.
My wife informed me that she hates my oddly-timed projects and the way I "just do things". What things about your spouse irritate you?
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10 comments:
I wish he'd brush his teeth more often. His breath is murderous! But he's one of those freaks that never gets a cavity no matter what so he doesn't see the point.
Hey I really admire that move. I really want to do things like rebuild a couch. Mostly my husband won't let me. I started to paint my living room and he (homebuilder by trade) came in a took over so it would be done right. I'm an artist for crissake. I can paint. But no. He does it. Every night after work IF he's not too tired. We are going on 2 wks. here. I could have knocked that shit out in a day. Whatever.
I'm the queen of poorly-timed projects. I do things like start painting a room at Ten at night, or I decide to re-organize the pantry in the middle of a huge cooking project.
I like to think this is a "charming" trait of mine.
My spouse? My irritation there is that the never, EVER "just DOES things". Every single thing needs to be thought out, analyzed and investigated. Gross. I just do stuff. This difference between us bugs the crap out of me, especially since we usually end up doing it my way anyways.
Also, he leaves things that need to go into recycling all over the place, as if they will magically transport themselves into the blue bins. And by "magically" I mean I will do it.
Ahhh...marriage.
Dude, I have one word for you, IKEA. Furniture that becomes disposable. When it breaks or falls apart, you just junk it or sell it at a garage sale. I never want to know what's inside my furniture, too scary...
Our family room furniture is so bad now, I'm embarassed to put it out to the curb for garbage pick-up!
Pretty much nothing irritates me because he is dead. It does sort of bother me that the grass is greener in that one spot out back though
I really hate that he can always find time to work on his "car", but not do anything around the house.
Like dishes and laundry.
Hmm, I am going to answer for my hubby and say the thing that probably irritates him the most about me is my fascination with comfort. Couches, bedding, sheets, pillows, etc... I've always got half an eye open to see if something out there is better than what we already have.
BTW you were so right when you picked this up a while back. I showed your comment to my hubby and he just about died laughing.
I'm mighty impressed with your initiative and your furniture fixing skilz! My husband would complain about my lack of planning and roaring into projects, too—he once returned from a business trip to find me disassembling a piano and making it into a karaoke stage. He irritates me by not complaining when he's injured. He walked around with a stress fracture in his leg for 6 weeks, and never mentioned it til the doctor called. Ass.
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