Wednesday, April 27, 2016


I've been lamenting my bathroom's floor tiles and the grout slowly crumbling away from in between them.  Every time I clean, some more comes loose.  My handy brother was on the phone with me the last time I was bemoaning this, and he assured me this was an easy fix.  I'm not handy in the slightest, as should have been obvious with my shoddy pool maintenance.

I ordered some easy do-it-yourself tube grout when I ordered my new (better fkn work) jar opener.  They both arrived, but I haven't had a jar to open yet.  I'll keep you posted.  I ordered two tubes of grout because Fuck you Amazon and your higher minimum order for free delivery charge.  And also because I wasn't sure how much I needed.

I couldn't even open the first tube, and I was fairly certain the jar opener wouldn't work on it.  Plus that was all the way downstairs.  The second tube opened easily enough, and I got started.  I was very trepidatious at first, but as I worked, my confidence grew.  I haven't finished yet because my legs started cramping.  However, the work I've done so far looks heaps better than previously.  Plus I feel an amazing sense of accomplishment.  Who fucking knew?!

The instructions said to thoroughly clean the area.  Which I did.  On my hands and knees with the Dyson.  It was like a clean room in there.  Until one hour later when I started noticing hair on the floor.  What the fuck?  I'd pulled my mane back with a scrunchy because I am a rebel and don't give a fuck if they're out of style (and I'm in my own home).  Kitten was sound asleep and not contributing to the mess.  And yet, both of our hairs were now on the floor.  Due to what I can only theorize as Wendy's Law: Hair travels at the Speed of Lint.

I might be ready to hire on at the Home Depot as an expert grout installer.  As long as I can use the stuff in a tube and can finish a small enough area before Wendy's Law kicks into effect.  :)

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