Today was special, even by my standards, for the sheer quantity of whoops moments.
I got up and zombie-shuffled to the kitchen for my coffee. I use a little plunger thingy since I'm the only one in the house who mainlines filter coffee. There's a bit of trick to it: you put the coffee in, top it up with hot water, and wait for a few minutes. Then slide the plunger down slowly unless it meets resistance, in which case you draw it up again and wait some more. For some reason there was absolutely no resistance this time around, so the plunger moved a lot faster than it should have (probably because a bleary-eyed yours truly was clutching it like a teddy bear), and the result was impressive. Coffee grinds on the kettle. Coffee grinds on the tab (missed the sink totally). Coffee grinds in my hair dripping onto my nose. Pretty much no coffee left in the plunger.
Take 2: Put the kettle on again while I washed my hair. Got back to my bedroom and put the mug down on the floor. Forgot it was there. Tripped over my own two feet and knocked the mug over.
Take 3: Get back to bedroom with 3rd cup clutch to breast like holy grail. Start sipping coffee. Someone bangs on the front door. Wear coffee. Open door looking like semi-rabid, dripping wet wolverine. (That courier company may find themselves looking for a new driver. Poor guy looked terrified. Sorry about that.)
At that point I said sod it and went back to bed for an hour (I love holidays. I can reboot my days on holidays. Kind of.)
Take 4: Tried coffee again. Part of delivery was a milk frother. Coffee was fine. Ceiling ended up with milk froth trailing off it like lace. There was also milk froth in my eyebrows and left ear. The froth left in the cup was great.
Take 5: Finally had a full cup of coffee. With milk froth, and no incidents. Encouraged by this, I decided to put my storage cubes together. The reviews on Amazon reckoned it took about 15 to 20 minutes to put together.
He. Hehe. He.
Approximately 2 1/2 hours later, the tally is as follows:
1 x throbbing nose (not broken, for which I am thankful.)
1 x throbbing wrist (which was what I bitch-slapped myself with) with tooth marks. (It was a genuinely impressive slap, ok?)
1 x complete inability to follow instructions that appear to have been designed and written by a drunken moose with ambitions to install an inter-dimensional time rip in my living room.
1 x near-miss with the window when the 2nd or 3rd attempt imploded and fired 3 plastic connectors at high velocity across the room.
1 x mark on forehead where 4th attempt imploded and I didn't duck fast enough.
2 x spare connectors. Have no idea where they go, and I've given up looking.
1 x 1/4 quarter bottle of honey mead, which got me through the construction process after the bitch-slap moment. Currently feeling no pain.
Several very amused twitter buddies, who followed the whole process via my tweeted howls of desperation.
1 x storage cube organised.
Never again. Anyone who ever encourages me to do DYI work will be referred back to this post.
I am waiting to get feeling back in my various body parts before I decide whether I can write or not. I'm hoping so - there is still a lot to work on and I really want to get through it before heading back to work next week - but as the mead wears off I feel like I've been mud-wrestling a chimp, and part of me just wants to climb back into bed and whimper gently until the sun rises.
I got up and zombie-shuffled to the kitchen for my coffee. I use a little plunger thingy since I'm the only one in the house who mainlines filter coffee. There's a bit of trick to it: you put the coffee in, top it up with hot water, and wait for a few minutes. Then slide the plunger down slowly unless it meets resistance, in which case you draw it up again and wait some more. For some reason there was absolutely no resistance this time around, so the plunger moved a lot faster than it should have (probably because a bleary-eyed yours truly was clutching it like a teddy bear), and the result was impressive. Coffee grinds on the kettle. Coffee grinds on the tab (missed the sink totally). Coffee grinds in my hair dripping onto my nose. Pretty much no coffee left in the plunger.
Take 2: Put the kettle on again while I washed my hair. Got back to my bedroom and put the mug down on the floor. Forgot it was there. Tripped over my own two feet and knocked the mug over.
Take 3: Get back to bedroom with 3rd cup clutch to breast like holy grail. Start sipping coffee. Someone bangs on the front door. Wear coffee. Open door looking like semi-rabid, dripping wet wolverine. (That courier company may find themselves looking for a new driver. Poor guy looked terrified. Sorry about that.)
At that point I said sod it and went back to bed for an hour (I love holidays. I can reboot my days on holidays. Kind of.)
Take 4: Tried coffee again. Part of delivery was a milk frother. Coffee was fine. Ceiling ended up with milk froth trailing off it like lace. There was also milk froth in my eyebrows and left ear. The froth left in the cup was great.
Take 5: Finally had a full cup of coffee. With milk froth, and no incidents. Encouraged by this, I decided to put my storage cubes together. The reviews on Amazon reckoned it took about 15 to 20 minutes to put together.
He. Hehe. He.
Approximately 2 1/2 hours later, the tally is as follows:
1 x throbbing nose (not broken, for which I am thankful.)
1 x throbbing wrist (which was what I bitch-slapped myself with) with tooth marks. (It was a genuinely impressive slap, ok?)
1 x complete inability to follow instructions that appear to have been designed and written by a drunken moose with ambitions to install an inter-dimensional time rip in my living room.
1 x near-miss with the window when the 2nd or 3rd attempt imploded and fired 3 plastic connectors at high velocity across the room.
1 x mark on forehead where 4th attempt imploded and I didn't duck fast enough.
2 x spare connectors. Have no idea where they go, and I've given up looking.
1 x 1/4 quarter bottle of honey mead, which got me through the construction process after the bitch-slap moment. Currently feeling no pain.
Several very amused twitter buddies, who followed the whole process via my tweeted howls of desperation.
1 x storage cube organised.
Never again. Anyone who ever encourages me to do DYI work will be referred back to this post.
I am waiting to get feeling back in my various body parts before I decide whether I can write or not. I'm hoping so - there is still a lot to work on and I really want to get through it before heading back to work next week - but as the mead wears off I feel like I've been mud-wrestling a chimp, and part of me just wants to climb back into bed and whimper gently until the sun rises.
Did I forget to mention I was reading your Tweets out loud? Oooops my bad. ;-)
ReplyDeleteCan't really blame you. Someone might as well enjoy the pain. Today wasn't quite as bad - only one serious whoopsie while making eggnog - ended up with about a tablespoon in my shoe (no idea how I managed it. I'm special like that.) - and did the one legged hop to the bathroom to rinse my toes off. Eggnog tasted fine.
ReplyDelete