Finished A DIY

This one took me a while. It turned out to be a pain in the ass. But as a dedicated budgeteer, I refused to give up.

We have Hunter-Douglas bottom-up/top down blinds in three rooms, including the office. My wife calls the office ‘the snug’, but that’s another story ripe with reverberations about words and their meanings and intentions. Anyway, I pulled on the cord to lower a blind and it snapped. Thus began my DIY project.

That happened in May. I researched and researched and researched but couldn’t find guidance or parts about our particular blinds and how to fix them. In early June, I reached out to Hunter-Douglas. Through a two week session of correspondence with photographs, we learned that my honeycomb Duetto blinds were manufacturered before 2007 so they had a different mechanism from what they currently make. Coming through like champs, though, Hunter-Douglas identified the parts I needed and said, “We’ll send them to you.” And then did, no charge for anything.

The parts arrived at June’s end. Meanwhile, the snug, excuse me, office, is the house’s warmest room. It’s also our most used. With only a desk, wall-mounted TV, a few book cases, a desk chair, recliner, and accent chair, we spend hours each day in that room reading, watching television, surfing the net, playing ‘puter games, and on the phone. It would clearly and easily win a household poll for ‘most popular room’. The cats are there just because we are. That’s their M.O.

One reason this room is so warm is that it has a standard ceiling. Much of the house has a ‘high ceiling’. That lets summer heat climb. Yes, it doesn’t do much to help us keep warm in the winter. The other reason for this room’s warmth is that its big window, which takes up most of the outside wall, faces west. The sun starts blazing through it at 3 PM in the summer. It doesn’t stop until the sun sets five hours plus later. The weather station is in there. When it’s over 90 F outside, this room will easily climb into the upper 80s. We use a vertical electric fan to chill us.

I’d taken the blind down for repairs, so that window was exposed. I dealt with that by hanging a large white bath towel on the window via clothes pins. Didn’t look pretty — you should have seen my wife’s scowl when she contemplated it — but it protected us from the sun and gave us needed privacy.

The parts arrived and I commenced on repairs. All went well. At first. The DIY corollary to Murphy’s Law says, “If complications are possible, they will happen.” For me, the complications came when I tried sliding the entire thing back together. It would not go as shown in ten million online videos. Talk about aggravating. Infuriating. Frustrating.

My wife was sanguine. “You’ll figure it out. You always do.”

I shook my head. “I think I might have to take it in for repairs.”

“Whatever you think is best.”

That was in mid-July. I researched repair centers while studying the blinds. Every third day or so, I’d try again to slide it all together. I tried carefully greasing pieces, and I tried different angles. But in studying the blind issue, I became convinced that the top fabric piece was the culprit. It was hitting against the pull/cranking mechanism. I think, I decided, I might need to cut that thing. I really didn’t want to cut that that thing, though. It’s not just fabric; it is fabric and plastic, and holds the mounts for the spools and shafts which operate the up/down mechanisms. It keeps it all aligned. Besides, I tasked myself, how exactly are you going to cut it? Exacto knife? Pocket knife? Box cutter, carpet cutter, tin snips, wire cutters?

No, I finally said: nursing shears.

With the plastic/fabric slid in as far as possible, I picked up the nursing shears. These are scissors which hospitals use to cut away clothing when people come in with injuries. With them, I cut two inches on either side of the end of the recalcitrant plastic/fabric piece. Lifting it up, I slid the thing home and closed my little flap.

Well done, I exulted.

Except, the lines were now hopelessly tangled.

Aw, fuuuucccckkkk, I morosely groaned.

With some work, I untangled it all enough that I could mount it and close it 80% of the way, top to bottom. But I could not raise it from the bottom. I could lower it from the top, though.

“You did it,” my wife said when she saw.

I shook my head. “No.” I explained the remaining problem. Then came the gut-wrenching clincher. “I might need to take it back apart again.”

Eyes widening, she literally blanched. “Oh, no.”

I set my jaw. “I put it together once. I can do it again.” My fingers were crossed when I said that.

I left it like that for several days. Every once in a while, I gazed at it all and thought about what needed done, but I was chicken shit. I worried that I’d make it worse. Finally, sucking it up, I said, “Enough.”

I took it all apart again. I carefully worked on the lines and spools and untangled it all. Then, I put it back together.

I did it in the morning so the sun wasn’t beaming through the window. It was cool, in the high sixties as morning developed. I had the window open. Despite a cool breeze, I was sweating bullets.

But it’s up. Together. And it works.

Thank the DIY gods.

Coffee Shop Buzz

Daily writing prompt
What do you listen to while you work?

Give me some chatter, baby. I like hearing the baristas tossing comments around as orders are given and taken. Add some background music, pop and rock songs which I sometimes know, hovering on my conscious awareness. Pump in some coffee making clinks, grinding, hissing, thumps, and clacks. All that together enhances my focus and concentration.

It’s a melange of familiar and forgettable noises blending into one sound, a combo which is easily shunted aside and ignored. It’s when a quiet rises and spreads that I stop my thinking and typing and look up to see what’s going on.

Sounds different from the norm will puncture my focus. Like, a child’s scream. A dog’s bark. A growing argument or increasingly loud disagreement. These all pull me up from under. But otherwise, with that coffee shop blend percolating around me, I think and type until, oh, damn, I forgot to drink my coffee. OMG, the coffee shop is empty. And, my ass has fallen asleep from sitting so long. And, I was supposed to leave ten minutes ago.

Those are all signs that it was a pretty productive day.

Floof Caddy

Floof Caddy (floofinition) 1. A person designated to tend to animals’ needs and manage the animal’s appointments. Origins: 1853, Scotland.

In Use: “Greatly annoying her, Lisa discovered she was the house dog’s floof caddy, picking up his toys, tidying his bed, cleaning and refilling his food and water dishes, checking his supplies, and while she loved Elmo, she really thought someone else in the house of six should be sharing those duties.”

2. An object or space designed or used to hold food or objects made for animals.

In Use: “After seeing a garden tool caddy on sale, Martha wondered if there was a floof caddy which did a similar thing, and then had a friend make one for her, based on her specs.”

Floofologica

Floofologica (floofinition) – Inability to rememember a name or term associated with animals. Origins: 1970s United States.

In Use: “One struggle with caring for Sybil’s pets for her while Sybil was on vacation was Chloe’s floofologica. Of the three cats, two dogs, and single bird, the only one whose name she recalled was the bird’s, Amber, because her favorite drinking beverage was amber ale.”

Satyrdaz Wondering Thoughts

I’ve downsized my coffee shop drink. As a familiar there, the baristas are prone to making it as soon as they see me and likewise ringing it up while confirming that I’m getting ‘the usual’.

BTW, I’ve always liked the expression ‘to ring it up’. I’ve written about it before and how it seems so archaic. I haven’t been in a place where the cash register rings with a new purchase in a while.

Sidebar aside, I’ve been educating the baristas about my smaller drink size. Today’s barista said, “May I ask, is it caffeine or price..?”

I smiled. “Nope. It’s waste. I noticed I wasn’t finishing my drink. I’m a boomer and was raised not to waste.”

The twentyish barista said, “Oh, I totally get that. I don’t waste at home. I’m the only one who eats leftovers in my house. It’s crazy, but I don’t want to waste anything.”

“You might be an honorary boomer,” I said.

“Maybe.” She glanced around and leaned forward. “It sure doesn’t come from my family.”

Flooftotum

Flooftotum (floofinition) – An animal who does multiple kinds of work. Origins: Flooftin, mid-16th century.

In Use: “Chase, a new household addition, quickly revealed herself to be a flooftotum, a true floof-of-all-trades, overseeing baths, dusting, making the bed, sorting laundry, cooking, and eating, in addition to providing security by keeping the yard free of other critters and issuing warnings about interlopers.”

Frida’s Wandering Thoughts

I was shopping at Trader Joe’s yesterday. As I considered blueberries and wondered how much I was willing to pay for my fruit, a loaf of bread fell to the floor to my left, about six feet away.

Nobody was anywhere near it. I walked over, reshelved it, and returned to the blueberries where I cursed high prices and selected my berries. As I did, a tub of yogurt jumped from the shelf to the floor on my right, about six feet away.

WTH? Nobody was there. I walked over, reshelved it, and headed down another aisle. As I did, a box of pasta leaped off a shelf and landed on the floor about six feet ahead of me.

WTAF???

This time, as I went to pick it up, a TJ employee overtook me. “I’ll take care of that, sir,” she said.

“Okay, thanks.” I then explained, “This is the third thing that fell or jumped from the shelf to the floor in front of me today. Some of it does seem like it jumped and didn’t fall. It’s like I’m following the ghost of a klutzy Trader Joe’s shopper.”

She chuckled. “Well, you never know what you’ll find at Trader Joe’s.”

Sectflooferian

Sectflooferian (floofinition) – Limited to information or activities related to animals. Origins: 1819, Northeastern United States.

In Use: “After another kitten was added to the household, the patio was screened in and became a sectflooferian lounging area for the cats, dogs, and birds, with several feeding stations, beds, sofas, chairs, boxes, and artificial trees set up for the floofs’ exclusive use.”

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