I am Da Man! Now the last time I wrote with this title it was about a very erotic experience for me. Unfortunately, this time has nothing to do with being naked but the experience itself gave me quite a laugh.
Ever watch a man while he is working around the house? All us women know how it starts off. Typically it’s weeks of pleading and begging to get the project done. He keeps putting it off until the week prior to that big event you are hosting in your home when he finally decides to pick up the hammer. That was me. Begging and pleading with myself to put all things on hold to get my kitchen done. Finally, just over a week to work with before I have the documentary crew coming to my home I decide to gut my kitchen. I am Da Man.
I pick up the hammer and start with my kitchen cabinets. My home is of older contsruction, my cabinets made of a tin and wood combination. The hammer wasn’t working so it was a short trip to the basement work bench and I returned with a crow bar. It was a great start and I managed to loosen the cabinets from the wall but could not get them damn things free! I went back to the basement and returned with a second crow bar. I am Da Man.
2 crowbars in hand, I use one as the lever, one as the destructor. When neither/nor worked I reached for the hammer. Board after board my cabinets came crashing to the floor. It wasn’t without a glitch here and there though. One of the base cabinets tore apart my wall, the curse to having plaster walls. A few times I swung the hammer a little too hard to add to the holes in the wall. A few times I may have uttered a few foul words. I finally decided that the walls must come down too. I am Da Man.
Cabinets down, dust in the air, it was time to remove my tin drawers. This is where I learned to appreciate the profoundness of foul language! Yes, I swore like a trucker. I also found myself talking to the damn things. “C’mon you sonnabitch, you’re coming down whether you like it or not!” Whether you like it or not? Did I really think the cabinets had a preference? Then I started to get personal with them. While prying them apart with the crowbar and swinging aimlessly with the hammer I was screaming at them! “Listen you b*****, you’re not going to get the best of me. I WILL get you off my frigging floor and before you know it you will be sitting at the curb side with the rest of ‘em. NOW-STOP PISSING-ME-OFF!” Yes, apparently they have a stubborn side and were chuckling at the sight of me. I took offense to this. I am Da Man.
Four hours in and finally my walls had nothing attached to them. It took me another two to take down the walls themselves. That’s when I stepped on the nail. Read the above paragraph, multiply by ten, add ex’s steel toed work boots to my feet. Now the floor. I know the tile guy said to use a skill saw and cut 6inch sections through the 2 layers of vinyl flooring then lift it up but no, I must do things the hard way. Peel away the vinyl, use the crowbar for the plywood, peel away the vinyl…and of course that last damn layer of plywood just didn’t want to lift. I was kicking, pounding, cursing. Took a break to turn my music up then cursed some more. 3/4 of the way through I had had enough. 2 cuts on my hand, a hole through my heel and a splitting headache I reached in the fridge for something to drink before I plopped myself on the couch. A beer. I have never had beer in my house. Can you believe that? I have never sat down and had a beer in my own home! But since there was a few cans left from the last house tour, I brought them home and put them in my fridge. I must have known I’d have a moment like this. I opened up the can, put my feet up on the coffee table and as I was looking at the oversized, well worn steel-toed work boots on my feet I thought to myself, “I am Da Man!”
If you will excuse me now, I am about to have a shower and head to the nail salon to get a well deserved manicure and pedicure. I need to wash “Da Man” in me away and reclaim my womanhood. :rolleyes:
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