Labor on Labor Day

Well this has been quiet the "bachelor" weekend. It started with me making a trip to the hardware store Friday night to fix my closest (unsuccessfully, of course); eating pizza and bread sticks for dinner Saturday night (super unhealthy for me); attempting to fix my car on Sunday (ok, just watching as Sam worked on it); and using a plunger on something besides a toilet on Sunday.

So I apparently have too much stuff in my closet for the shelf and pole to carry the weight. No surprise for anyone that knows me, so I have to buy a 66.25 inch pole support it. No problem, they sell them at Adler's right down the street. No one's gonna mess with a dame with a five and a half foot pole in her hands. For all they know it's a giant nun chuck or saber or a joust--something to be feared either way.

I have so little food right now that I ordered in Dominos. I sat around in a messy, foodless apartment and watched a movie with greasy pizza hands in my bed! I definitely put it promptly in the fridge though, unlike some bachelors who leave it out all weekend and still eat it! I won't lie, I have eaten pizza left out for days before, and I'm still alive, so I guess I can't hate on those who do that. Having car problems definitely doesn't help me get to the grocery store any quicker. I have everything I need within walking distance (gas station, a Redbox, my hair lady, my dentist, a dozen restaurants, a movie theater, a mall, work, pretty much anything...except a grocery).

My battery light on my car is flashing...and when I accelerate, well my airbag light, oil light and check engine light, come on to join the party as well. So going for a spin results in a light show, what are you gonna do? It'll get fixed. There's also a car mechanic within walking distance too! So my car is broke, no biggie. It's only the second time she's let me down. She's a good car. Reliable, honest, and smitten with good looks.

And the last event in my weekend saga, the plunger. Well about once a week my razor holder likes to de-suction from the wall and the heavy, metal-garnished razor make an incredibly loud and unnecessarily frightening sound at about 3AM. Well last week took the cake. The clear, plastic, blade protector committed suicide. Sick of plummeting 5 feet, it jumped ship. Right down the drain. Well, luckily apartments built in 1814 don't have fancy drain covers, so it succeeded. I searched endlessly, but to my avail, it was gone for good. Well the combination of narrow piping, years of hair/debris and a razor cover lodged in the pipe create what I like to refer to as the "foot wash"...you know a 6 inch retention of water to soak your feet and make them nice and clean...or coated with the previous tenants' germs, skin cells and hair. Now, I don't like to call myself a genius, and I may quickly discover I'm not, but I just purchased a new plunger, which has yet to be christened by my commode. I took a risk and plunged my tub. Not only did it bring the razor cover back from the dead (like Lazarus), but it cleared up all drainage slow downs. It wasn't until just now that I realized the possibility that my tub-plunging could have burst pipes and flooded the guy's apartment below me...in the kitchen, during dinner time, of course (apologies to Andy).

Well, having spent the weekend basking in bacheloresque glory, I made sure to end the weekend by using my floral tools to hang a girly picture, organize my recipe cards, and do lots of domestic chores around the apartment all while dancing to my latest 80's and country favorites, of course. None of which would you find a guy volunteering to do.

Happy Labor Day! Hope you enjoyed your labor-free holiday!

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