Those of you who know me personally know that I have spent the last billion weeks having my master bathroom remodeled. This wasn't a design decision. This was an unavoidable remodel resulting from a slab leak and enough black mold to form it's own political party.
I designed the bathroom in my mind. Had my vision. Looked at my jackhammered shower and the holes in my floor and walls and thought, OK, let's have a fabulous bathroom! New shower, had to have one since ours was now gone. New tub surround. Get rid of the wallpaper. Change the closet door from sliding doors to one single door. Texture and paint. A little crown molding to match the bedroom. New faucets, new vanities. OK.
I picked out all the stuff - paint, texture, furniture, tile, grout, faucets, lighting fixtures. Bought the stuff, brought it home. Contractors brought vans and trucks and equipment and supplies. Wall board and hardiebacker, switches, plugs, plates for said switches and plugs. Saws and levels, squares and Ts.
Every day they go to Home Depot. At least once.
This to me is like: I am going to fix Christmas dinner. I then make a huge list of everything I need or could possibly need and go buy it all and have it ready. If I need additional cooking implements like pots and pans, linens for the table, etc., I get those too. Why not be prepared?
Before every Home Depot run I get a thorough explanation of why the trip is necessary and why what they have won't work with what I bought. I apparently bought every non standard everything one can have in a bathroom. OK. Go to Home Depot. Spare me the details. It sounds like gibberish to me anyway.
Back to the Christmas dinner analogy. IF I found I needed something like say...salt. I would go buy it, come home and proceed with my meal preparation, (really I'd ask my husband to do it first). I would not take the time to explain to all parties involved in eating the meal why salt is going to make the meal sooooo much better. Or why the salt everyone else uses is really not good enough salt. You need special, more expensive salt. Salt that is up to code.
I have decided there some eerie force in Home Depot that interacts with testosterone. Men can't help themselves. It's like macho man ego stroking to swagger into the Depot. If you have a pick up, well, the arousal level must be unbearable. It's like the sirens call....come to the Depot, you need to buy things....home repairs....lawn and garden....come this way big boy....come, follow the trail of those who have come before you. Three hundred dollars is NOT too much to spend on this trip.....come, follow....tools are beckoning...you look handsome with your stud finder....go ahead, put it against your chest to prove you are a stud....everyone does it.
I know that women can shop. I know we bargain hunt and love to just simply look at stuff but not everyday. We don't suddenly need lipstick everyday. It does not come as a surprise to us that we ran out of mascara last time we used the tube. It is not a head slap moment to know that to make a sandwich you need bread. To build I room you need hardware.
If I had a hammer....I would shut up about it.
You're Welcome,
Lillybell Blues
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