#233 - DOUBLE DEBACLE

Ok, let me try to explain this one...

A month (or so) ago I noticed that my clothes dryer was not drying as it should.  Now, friends, we all know that this means there is too much lint collected in the darned thing.  "Easy enough."  I thought, "I can do this myself."


Those of you who have gotten to know me by reading this blog are already on high alert.  "Yes," you are saying to yourself, "she is about to go into that place where she has gone many times before...debacle land (better known as the wacky world of Karen's projects).


Of course I pulled the dryer out, unhooked the foil covered 'slinky' thingy and cleaned out the back of the dryer (and said 'slinky').  I hooked everything back up and tried the dryer...nada, zip, zilch...still wouldn't dry.  This meant that the tin pipe that ran from the center of my house (where the laundry room is), under my bedroom, and out into the back yard had lint (and probably a sock or two) trapped inside. 


I went into a preplanning brainstorming mode (which, in retrospect proved to be totally useless) and devised a plan to clean out this 25 foot pipe. "Really," I thought again, "I can do this.  Besides a plumber would charge me major bucks! Think of all the money I can save." (And while I am at it...why is there a 'B' in plumber? Yes, I have ADHD)


First, I had to devise a way to reach the gunk held hostage in this long, looong, looooooong pipe.  I had a scathingly brilliant idea (and there will be extra points awarded to those of you who can tell me what movie that phrase came from).  "Easy peasy", I thought.  "All I have to do is tape together several of those old tent poles I have been hanging on to."  And 'voila' (Impressed? I am multi lingual), an 'obstruction removal device' was constructed.


With my helpers, Toby and Kit (who always love to watch me at work...for the comic relief I am sure) I set about getting the job done.

Toby has already had his nose 
in that hole several times. (See
the long pole..clever huh!)

Kit kept swatting at the end of the pole
 like it was some kind of snake.

I carefully (key word) taped each segment of the poles together and rammed the end up into the pipe until it reached the curved portion in the laundry room floor (below).  Then I tied a nylon rope to the end and pulled it through the pipe.  

Here are the props for my scathingly brilliant idea. 
Once I had the line running through the pipe 
I attached a fuzzy duster to the cord.

Well, Toby had a different idea.

                                            

                                                         "Nope, Mom, you can't have it!"

"Ok, you chased me clear 
out into the back yard, so 
I guess you can have it now."

The next step was to pull the duster through the pipe.  Brilliant, right!  I had to hot foot it outside to pull the cord then do a reverse hot foot to pull it back.  However (and you knew there was going to be a however didn't you), there appeared to be a point about half way through where it got caught and I had to tug a little.  "No problem," I said to myself, "I will just tape a hand trowel to the end of the 'obstruction removal device' (the long pole) and use it to poke and scrape the stubborn debris from the pipe."  

Considering this an even more scathingly brilliant idea, I went about the task of adding the trowel and then poked the entire devise up into the pipe.  I could feel the obstruction when the point of the trowel reached the spot so I jabbed at the reluctant glob and was elated to feel it give away.  Happily, I pulled the pole back so I could pull the duster through again.  HOWEVER (and this is the big however that you have been expecting), one of the taped sections came loose and lodged in the pipe.  Most of the pole came out but the section with the trowel remained behind.  "OH BOTHER!" (was not what I exclaimed).  

"Not to worry, I can fix this," I muttered to myself (I was definitely in a state of denial).  The nylon cord was still in the pipe so I attached the fuzzy duster to it again and proceeded to pull it through the pipe thus (in theory) dislodging the trowel and pole.  Nope, didn't work.  Not only that, the fuzzy duster is now held captive along with the trowel and partial pole.  

End result pictured below:

Sooooooo, if I wish to use my dryer (which is thankfully electric)
 I have to keep this filter on the back to catch the lint.  
The only problem is that
TOBY KEEPS STEELING IT!
Mannnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn!
kt 5/31/12 

COMING ATTRACTIONS:

#234 The War of the Roses

#235 Deer Me

#236 True Love

#232-ANOTHER FINE MESS!

Last summer I caused myself a bit of a dilemma (what's new).  I have a bad habit of climbing up onto whatever is close to reach things above my normal grasp.  This, in the past, has caused the demise of various cans, tables,  and, yes, boxes.  But none can compare with what happened when I climbed up onto a plastic outdoor chair.  

Picture this with a gaping, jagged
hole in the center.

You know the kind I am talking about.  You see them at every Target, K-Mart or Walmart each spring.  They are the colorful ones that grace almost every other back yard patio in the world.


Anyway, up onto the chair I went, to try and fix the garage door which was refusing to open (again for the 100th time).  I stepped up onto that plastic perch (which had apparently been in the sun waaaay to long to hold even a person half my weight).  No sooner than I had stepped up, my leg broke through the center.  The problem was not that I fell but... the chair seat immediately broke into a chard pattern and was holding my leg hostage.  In order to get my leg out I was going to have to pull it out against the chards.  "Oh, mannnnn, this was going to hurt," I said  (deja-vous, it seems as though I have said this to myself before).  


Add to this that I was in the garage and had no place to sit down in order to ponder the best plan of attack.  The garage door wouldn't budge and the only possible path to another chair was up two steps and through a spring-loaded storm door.  I gingerly walked over to the first barrier to gaining entrance to the house only to be stabbed in 3 places by the pointy chards.  


Obviously the problem occurred when I tried to get through the spring loaded storm door.  Acting much like an alligator the darned thing kept glomming onto the chair.  I couldn't seem to put the trapped leg up first or hop up the steps on my right leg.  The danged door opened up to the left.  I couldn't reach far enough to hold it open in order to avoid the chair which had latched onto me like a pirana (yes, I know the door is an alligator and the chair is a pirana...apparently my garage is a swamp of some sort).


Next, I looked around for some tools to break (or cut) the chair off of my leg.  Now, if your garage looks like mine, then you know that there is no clear path to anything of importance.  So, I staggered around with this chair maintaining a shark like grasp on my leg (may as well keep the analogies in the realm of deadly water animals).  

Picture this upside down.

I found a small crate on which to sit and attacked the 'sharkesque' chair with a small saw.  Makes sense...use teeth to attack teeth...NOT!    When I pushed down on the saw it worked OK. But, when I pulled up the monstrous teeth bit into my leg.  


Struggling to my feet I went in search of a more deadly weapon (at that point if I could have found a gun I would have gladly put the chair to death).


The only thing I could find was a rusty pair of pruning shears.  So, I plopped myself down on the crate again and began to try and cut the plastic.  Well, that danged stuff was brittle enough to shatter when I stepped on it but, held together when I tried to cut it.


I sat there thinking while sweat dripped of me as if I were actually in a stinking swamp.  As I was looking around for an idea I spotted a coil of clothes line rope.  BINGO!  Gingerly, I wrapped a loop around each shard (one at a time) and pulled the loop up over the arm and tied it off.   


It worked great.  Well, almost...The last chard broke and I fell backwards onto the plastic crate (that had, also, apparently been in the sun way too long).  The chair flew off my leg, and my butt was suddenly stuck in the broken crate.  I said, "Well, sh!!, this is another fine mess you have gotten yourself into."   (I think I must be somehow related to Laurel and Hardy).


I sat there laughing at myself and eventually turned over to the side and got my crate covered rump up off the floor.  With a little tug and wiggle the crate dropped to the floor.  


That day I went to Walmart to buy a step-stool.  On, occasion, I do learn from my mistakes... ... ... 


(And YES, I am in my "Blue Boy" period).  It seemed like the thing to do when the all the art turned out to be blue.

COMING ATTRACTIONS:


#233 Double Debacle 
#234 The War of the Roses
#235 Deer Me
#236 True Love

kt 3/18/12

#213 - AND I DID IT WITHOUT THE NEED FOR PARAMEDICS

Not exactly nice hard wood floors hiding under the linoleum.

Well, guys, I finally mustered  up the courage to finish the floor of the half bath.  Knowing my penchant for disaster I approach every major project with trepidation.  It has only been about 18 months since I glued my foot to the floor in there (when putting up a backsplash by the sink).  Thinking that the bad mojo must be gone by now I tackled my new project.


The first indication of trouble was when I brought the necessary tools into the house.  As I was entering the bathroom with the sander and electric screwdriver in my hands, my cat, Kit, was turning the corner from the kitchen.  She was heading for the back door.  When she looked up and saw me with the two items, she glared at me, growled (yes she growls when she's mad) and darted away into the house.  You see she has been attacked by a run away sander and elect. screwdriver during two different projects of mine (see Kit #1 below).


Ignoring the omen her attitude may have been issuing, I merrily went about the business of preparing the bathroom floor for its new covering.  About two years ago I purchased numerous square linoleum tiles to put down (thinking they would be easier than trying to cut a pattern and lay down a single piece).  However, before I could put the tiles down I had to sand the floor since the IDIOT (no, not me) who put the last linoleum down apparently meant it to stay there forever and must have used super glue.  When I took up the old stuff it left an uneven surface.

Toby is johnny on the spot, ready to help!

The little "THIEF" IN ACTION!

Armed with two different sanders (one for corners and edges) I attacked the floor with gusto.  I had on goggles and a dust mask to assure that I would not be injured or cough up sawdust balls.  Now, my dog, Toby, had been coming by the door occasionally to check on what I was doing.  When he saw me in the mask and goggles he went nuts.  No, he didn't bark and challenge me, he saw this as my invitation to play.  There I am down on my knees, trying to do my job and this goofy dog was pulling at my mask and goggles, jumping over me, and pouncing on my behind.  So, I had to get up and take the things off to put Toby outside.  That is when he jumped up and closed the door.  Wham!  I couldn't believe he shut the door before I could go out of it.  (Yes, I have been teaching him to shut doors, but, not to shut them to block my exit, surely that was not what he was trying to do....or was it?).


I tossed Toby out and finished the sanding in one day.  However, I failed to realize that this fine saw dust was going to be everywhere and it took me another day to clean up the bathroom, every bottle and shelf in the bathroom, the hall beyond the bathroom, and my bedroom.


The next day 8/16, I got the tile out, the pair of heavy duty scissors and my brand new, handy-dandy. box cutter (underlining is my attempt at foreshadowing).  I carefully measured and placed the first two tiles.  No major accidents so far.  Phew......The next row required some cutting so I zipped out the blade of my handy-dandy, new, box cutter.  I made the cuts on two tiles and they fit perfectly.  Placing the box cutter on the floor I scooted my behind back to start the next row (I don't get up and down to easily, so scooting was the only option).  As I quickly moved my right hand back for the next scoot it (or rather my pinkie) brushed up against the blade of my handy-dandy, new, box cutter.  I yelped and look down to see blood dripping profusely from my pinkie.  Who would have thought that a person could bleed to death from a pinkie cut?

After I bled all over the bathroom floor, the kitchen floor, the kitchen table and the first aide kit I managed to stem the flow and get a band-aide on.   I wisely decided to use scissors from this point on.


In order to make some of the cuts in the squares I had to make patterns out of typing paper (which meant that I had to tape several pages together).  So I jumped up slowly and awkwardly pushed up off the floor and trudged to the office to get the paper and tape.  Once back down on the floor I made the paper square and then fit it and marked how it should be cut.  Looking around, I said aloud, "And, where, exactly are the scissors, you twit?"  I also answered myself aloud, (the sign of insanity....right....talking to ones self and then answering), "Yes, of course, they're where you left them when you fetched the paper and tape IN THE OFFICE!"  I struggled to get up again and retrieved my scissors (unfortunately, this became the major theme for the rest of the day).


The only other problems I had was stepping on a turned up piece of linoleum and having to unstick it from my foot; then cutting one piece wrong and having to sweat out the possibility that I wouldn't have enough tile.  Oh, yeah, I forgot;  while walking out the door to the kitchen I stepped on a piece of paper backing laying on the linoleum floor in the hall and landed with an earth shattering thud on my rump (no damage done to the floor, but my rump has seen better days.....in more ways than one).

At least I didn't stick it to the bedroom rug
 (well, this one I didn't).

I managed to finish the floor before dinner.  It doesn't look bad but was harder than I thought it would be.  Now, I only have to buy the quarter round and cut it, (Ohhhh, mannnnn, the potential there is frightening) paint it, and nail it to the floor.  Once that is finished I will need to paint the door into the kitchen and I will FINALLY be finished.

I say FINALLY because I started this project five years ago when I ripped out the floor covering and sink, replaced the sink with a better one (I had a plumber hooked it up because I haven't mastered plumbing, as yet)  put up a new ceiling light (Yes, I have tempted fate by messing with electricity.  Nothing shocking to talk about, again, as yet) glued a hugh mirror to the wall (and framed it), put up back splash, painted, and, now I just put down new floor covering.  Ok, so, that's a long time, but, since I was the major contractor on the job I am not complaining..............

Da-Ta-Da-Da!     kt 8/17/2011

KIT #1:   Ok, I was redesigned the brackets for a wooden rail to go across in front of the bathtub in Dad's bathroom (to eliminate the possibility of him falling into the tub, again). This required using the circular saw and jigsaw again (which, with me, is an accident waiting to happen). However, both cuts went off without a hitch. It was when I had to use the sander that things got interesting. 

Apparently, I had left the sander on the last time I used it and just flipped the switch to the plug. So, when I plugged it into a different outlet it jumped off the sawhorse shelf and raced across the garage floor….. TOWARD THE CAT (who was lounging on the cement floor watching the Karen show)! I don’t know how she did it, but somehow she sprung off the floor, spun around in mid air and almost left skid marks leaving the area. I stood there watching the CATastrophe unfold. I had started to laugh when the sander came to the end of its tether, jerked, and started back in my direction. Oh, _______!  After coaxing my eyebrows down off the ceiling I managed to pull the plug on the errant sander. The cat is nowhere to be found.


KIT #2:  And, I just posted the screwdriver etc. episode on 8/22/11 http://outofmymindbykt.blogspot.com

#23-A STICKY SITUATION

 I just completed another home project.  I am glad to say that it went smoothly (and, this time, my cat was unharmed).  On this project I had to cut, trim and fit a back splash above and beside the sink in my bathroom.  There is always the potential for mishaps since I was using sharp tools.  But nothing was pierced, slashed, or severed.

     Working with quick drying adhesive was daunting but everything went off without a hitch UNTIL I STEPPED INTO A GLOB OF GLUE that had dropped from my carelessly placed adhesive gun.

     Since I was wearing sox (and no shoes) I didn’t notice my impending dilemma.   I stood there for a few minutes holding up a panel with each arm, until the adhesive set (key word).   It didn’t take long.  When I started to move my foot I noticed a slight (ok, big) problem.  My left foot was glued into place.

     The adhesive had leached through my sock and glued my sock and (more importantly) my left foot to the floor. 

     I hadn’t put newspapers down because the floor was bare, since I removed the linoleum to put down new floor covering (ahhh, another project in my future).  Hence, I wasn’t going  anywhere, soon.

     My cell phone was setting on the tank of the toilet and I could have called 911, but I could imagine their response:

           Dispatch:          “Dispatch to EMT 1”

              EMT 1:          “Hey, Flo, whatcha got?”

          Dispatch:          “It’s Ms. T, again!”

              EMT 1:          “What'd she do this time?”

          Dispatch:         “Glued her foot to the floor!”

             EMT 1:                  (a chorus of laughter)

         Dispatch:          “Otis, your mike is still open.”

             EMT 1:          “Sorry, (chuckle) we’ll get right over there (chuckle)”.

      No, way was I calling 911!     

     It took some contortions to reach the finger polish remover in the cupboard over the toilet, (fortunately I have practiced contortions in my bathroom before see #47) and a whole bottle of remover to extricate the sock from the floor (and my foot).  Now there’s nice clean shiny place on the ball of my foot.  I guess I sucked all the poison out of it like that stuff advertised on TV.  Maybe I should do the whole foot (or both feet).  Better yet, maybe I should market it.

kt 2010 

#15 AS A RESULT OF DAD'S BATHTUB ADVENTURE

(Don't start here.  Scroll down to the beginning for parts 1, 2,  3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9)     Trust me it will be worth it.

BLOW-BY-BLOW part 10 (the finale):  Once again an old adage bears true.  "Necessity is the mother of invention. " We now have a sturdy, fully functioning (removable) handrail across the tub opening.  Am I great or what!  Of course, the fact that it doesn't look like a professioal job does not spoil the victory!!!!!

FINALLY FINISHED!

                                       kt   July 7, 2010  

#14 AS A RESULT OF DAD'S BATHTUB ADVENTURE

(Don't start here.  It will make more sense if you scroll down to the beginning for parts 1, 2,  3, 4, 5, 6)

BLOW-BY-BLOW part 7: Ok, I redesigned the rail brackets. This required using the circular saw and jigsaw again (which, with me, is an accident waiting to happen). However, both cuts went off without a hitch. It was when I had to use the sander that things got interesting. Apparently, I had left the sander on the last time I used it and just flipped the switch to the plug. So when I plugged it into a different outlet it jumped off the sawhorse shelf and raced across the garage floor…..toward the cat (who was lounging on the cement floor watching the Karen show)! I don’t know how she did it, but somehow she sprung off the floor, spun around in mid air and almost left skid marks leaving the area. I stood there watching the CATastrophe unfold. I had started to laugh when the sander came to the end of its tether, jerked and started back in my direction. Oh, _______! After coaxing my eyebrows down off the ceiling I managed to pull the plug on the errant sander. The cat is nowhere to be found.

BLOW-BY-BLOW part 8:  Woopie!  I found the studs, drilled holes in the NEW boards (and the saw horses holding them.  By the way, did you know that if you put a board on a cement floor to drill it and, WELL....... accidentally drill through the board to the cement and, WELL...... the drill bit gets so hot it melts?  Just thought I'd mention this just in case someone (not me) might do that.

BLOW-BY-BLOW part 9 : I drilled holes (and only 3 too many) in the walls at each end of the tub where the studs are, I love that word and screwed the boards to the walls (only loosing 1 screw down the drain.  Now, to test my invention I only have to slip the rail into the U slots.  Tell you next tie because this is the cliff hanger ending for this episode.

(10 is next)

#13 AS A RESULT OF DAD'S BATHTUB ADVENTURE

(Don't start here.  Scroll down to the beginning for parts 1, 2, 3)


BLOW-BY-BLOW part 4:   Ran into a snag today…My stud finder isn’t working…no surprise to me….mine hasn’t been working for years!

BLOW-BY-BLOW part 5:  I finally put the final coat of spray paint on the boards and rail
(only spraying the cat, slightly). And I’ll be right back right after an announcement from our sponsors……CpC (cats protecting cats) Buy this special outfit to protect your cat from
unnecessary spray painting accidents….$40.00 all profits go to the cats in west Africa.

BLOW-BY-BLOW part 6:   I would start off with CUSS words but I don’t want to offend anyone (so I am saying them out loud as I type). I finally got the stud finder to work (need new batteries – don’t we all). I searched for 20 minutes only to find that nearby studs were 6 inches away from where I needed to anchor the boards. BACK TO THE (MacGyver) DRAWING BOARD!

Parts 7, 8, 9 next.

#12 AS A RESULT OF DAD'S BATHTUB ADVENTURE

This is another one I will have to do in parts because it is soooooo long.

My father is 99 and he had an accident last week. It seems that he fell butt first into the tub while trying to pull his pants up. He wasn’t hurt, but I had to call 911 for help getting him out of the bathtub. So, I have been trying to design a way to put a removable handrail across the opening to the tub. I put these daily comments on facebook (one at a time):


BLOW-BY-BLOW part 1: The first problem I encountered was, "How am I going to fasten the end of the pole to the walls? "The guy at the lumber yard sold me 2 wide L brackets. Didn't take this lady long to realize that If I screwed the brackets to the wall and the pole to the brackets; then I would have to crawl
                                      over or under to take a bath. NOPE that is a deal breaker.

BLOW-BY-BLOW part 2: Well, I cut the wood pieces yesterday and only dropped the circular saw once (a personal best for me), Then I jigged U slots in the top of each board. Is till have all my fingers so will consider it a success. Next I painted on side of each board and the railing. By this time it was afternoon and sweat was dripping off my nose onto the boards. Time to quit!

BLOW-BY-BLOW part 3: Ok, I now have both sides of the boards and the bottom of the railing painted. Only knocked over the paint can once and dropped the paint brush twice. In typical Karen style it would be easier to describe where I didn’t get paint on myself; lets just say I now have a basecoat most everywhere! Once I sand the ants off tomorrow, I should be able to put the finish coat on.

See part 3, 4, 5 next.