I have not given up on blogging. Other things have occupied my time, such as Jordi and more Jordi. Also, trying to win over his cat, Klaus:
Tuesday, rather than enjoying a sweltering session grasping at plastic holds at the bouldering gym as planned, I found myself lying on my back under the kitchen sink living out my plumber fantasy. Remember when I successfully removed the p-trap to unsuccessfully retrieve a pair of body jewelry that I had dropped down the drain? If not, there’s a blog post about that.
This time my landlady requested that I grope for some pipes through a hole in the wall: a poorly placed access hole that did not line up with this purported handle. Also, being trapped under the p-trap meant I couldn’t peer inside the hole.
Do you see the valve? No. The answer is no. But, when your landlady, who is renting out a suite to you for much less than the market rate, asks you to stick your hand in a hole in the wall, you do it.Continue reading “Inspiring while perspiring.”
It’s official: I’m a regular at Canadian Tire. I guess this is because I no longer have instant access to tools, 99% of which belonged to Yann. I’m surrounded by tools every day at work, so on my days off, my hands start shaking from withdrawal. I am slowly building my tool collection: pink, 75% smaller, and 200% more expensive, of course. Stainless steel and black rubber are so unladylike, ew.
My latest trip to obtain made-in-Asia goods from Canadian Tire was for L-brackets and screws to reinforce my fancy bedside table:
It’s a workaround for Ikea’s MALM bed frame, which has poorly thought-out full-length drawers on the sides. If I were to use a regular four-legged bedside table, I wouldn’t have access to my pants unless I move the table! And I can’t be Porky Pigging it. I also need a table to support my nightly hydration operation.
When I moved into my current place, this table had to be cut shorter because it blocked the bedroom door from swinging open. I can’t access the drawers on the other side of the bed either as that side is against the wall, which gives you an idea of how dinky my place is.
Now that I’d made this table functional and sturdy with the addition of L-brackets, I could concern myself with its presentation.
While I have a tool deficiency, I have a sizable collection of art supplies, including a bottle of pouring medium that I’d bought years ago for one project. If you know what you’re doing, the result can be something like this:
I’d painted the wood black. My next plan was to turn the top into a psychedelic pool of colours!
Instead, I turned it into a puddle of despair. I’d tilted and rotated the surface to get even coverage. When this wasn’t happening, I poured more paint into the gaps. It got progressively uglier as I attempted to correct the mistakes.Continue reading “Lower than lowbrow.”
When I finally write this autobiography, people will invariably ask, “But why?” And I’d be like, “Exactly.”
So, when a friend confessed that soup was one of his favourite things, I wanted to ask, “But why?” My friend isn’t a senior citizen, nor are his teeth plastic like mine. What kind of Millennial chooses soup as their favourite food?
My favourite food used to be sushi, but since visiting Japan in 2014, I’ve been disgusted by the quality of most of the sushi found here: the rice is often poorly prepared, and restaurants tend to go overboard with the specialty rolls. 2016’s trip to Mexico, thankfully, did not ruin burritos for me, so as long as I’m not in Japan, vegetarian burritos are my ichiban (that’s Japanese for number one).
Now that I’ve got an acrylic sheath over my front teeth, preventing me from biting into food, burritos are no-go. My soup enthusiast friend saw this as the opportunity to defend his favourite meal and loaned me a cookbook containing 65 soup recipes. Along with this book, I also lugged a 10kg tome of assorted recipes to be served on a plate home.
I was ready to give one of the soup recipes a try until I came across this on Reddit. It’s a rice bear sleeping in a beautiful garden of broth:Continue reading “Title of my autobiography: “But why?””