As Our Friend Slappy Squirrel Would Say:
Apr. 23rd, 2008 01:39 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mmerriam"Now That's Comedy!"
Besides housework, I'm also do some around the house repair and one-time projects today (because as our other friend Red Green, would say: "If the woman can't find you handsome, they should at least find you handy."), one of which was to do some cleaning on the outside of the townhouse, where we had a gift left by a visiting bird on the side of the building.
I pulled out the garden hose and, realizing that I'd left this particular spray nozzle on the hose and outside all winter, went to the garage for a different nozzle, one I had stored properly and felt I could trust.
So I screw the thing onto the hose, and the hose onto the outside faucet and I turn the whole thing on.
Apparently this nozzle (one of those adjustable sprayers) had given it up over winter, despite my best efforts. Water shot out from everywhere, in all directions, pretty much soaking me. I turned it all back off and looked at the nozzle in disgust.
Now, in retrospect, I should have stopped there.
Instead, I decided to try the other nozzle. This was a much worse drenching than with the previous one. I reached down to turn off the faucet.
And the knob comes off in my hand.
So I'm trying to get it back on so I can turn the (seriously cold) water off, and I can't quite manage it. I toss the hose toward the rock garden and squat down and get the handle back on enough to turn off the water.
That hose rose up from the rock garden like some kind of deranged water-spitting viper, flailing and flinging water everywhere until at last I managed to get the stupid knob back in place and turn off the water. So now I'm standing on my patio, sopping wet, panting slightly, and shivering.
That's when I heard the laughter.
I turn and look up the hill to find Platinum and Fuchsia-hair girl, who lives in the townhouse above and across from us (and has revert back to being a blonde), standing inside her fence laughing hysterically. I turn around and glare and she runs back inside, howling her fool head off the whole time.
Dignity? Whatever. Like I have any of that left.
But I did clean up the outside of the townhouse, and I fixed the faucet knob, and the leak in the bathroom, and cleaned the fireplace, and finished the laundry, and maybe finally fixed the noisy freezer fan, and did all the housework I planned for today, so it's all good.
Tomorrow I will tackle other projects, so stay tuned!
Besides housework, I'm also do some around the house repair and one-time projects today (because as our other friend Red Green, would say: "If the woman can't find you handsome, they should at least find you handy."), one of which was to do some cleaning on the outside of the townhouse, where we had a gift left by a visiting bird on the side of the building.
I pulled out the garden hose and, realizing that I'd left this particular spray nozzle on the hose and outside all winter, went to the garage for a different nozzle, one I had stored properly and felt I could trust.
So I screw the thing onto the hose, and the hose onto the outside faucet and I turn the whole thing on.
Apparently this nozzle (one of those adjustable sprayers) had given it up over winter, despite my best efforts. Water shot out from everywhere, in all directions, pretty much soaking me. I turned it all back off and looked at the nozzle in disgust.
Now, in retrospect, I should have stopped there.
Instead, I decided to try the other nozzle. This was a much worse drenching than with the previous one. I reached down to turn off the faucet.
And the knob comes off in my hand.
So I'm trying to get it back on so I can turn the (seriously cold) water off, and I can't quite manage it. I toss the hose toward the rock garden and squat down and get the handle back on enough to turn off the water.
That hose rose up from the rock garden like some kind of deranged water-spitting viper, flailing and flinging water everywhere until at last I managed to get the stupid knob back in place and turn off the water. So now I'm standing on my patio, sopping wet, panting slightly, and shivering.
That's when I heard the laughter.
I turn and look up the hill to find Platinum and Fuchsia-hair girl, who lives in the townhouse above and across from us (and has revert back to being a blonde), standing inside her fence laughing hysterically. I turn around and glare and she runs back inside, howling her fool head off the whole time.
Dignity? Whatever. Like I have any of that left.
But I did clean up the outside of the townhouse, and I fixed the faucet knob, and the leak in the bathroom, and cleaned the fireplace, and finished the laundry, and maybe finally fixed the noisy freezer fan, and did all the housework I planned for today, so it's all good.
Tomorrow I will tackle other projects, so stay tuned!
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Date: 2008-04-23 07:14 pm (UTC)*picturing you as Mr. Bean*
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Date: 2008-04-23 07:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-23 07:16 pm (UTC)If she becomes a writer, one day you might end up in one of HER stories...
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Date: 2008-04-23 07:34 pm (UTC)"You'll never guess what happened to the old-fart who lives at the bottom of the berm..."
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Date: 2008-04-23 07:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-23 07:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-23 07:53 pm (UTC)Descending to the banal, it's possible that you just need a new washer to put between the nozzle and the hose. However, in your place, I bet I'd get a new nozzle and the heck with it.
P.