Spending like a drunken monkey.

Or is that “drunken sailor”?   I think it is,  although I wouldn’t want to offend any sailors.  Or Coast Guardsmen.  Is that what they’re called?

Anyway, that’s what it felt like.  Between sending off a cheque for a considerable sum for 50% down on the windows,  and then just running all over town wearing out my bank card, I felt like I was getting carried away.  And I was only really buying essentials. 

OK, maybe that’s why my bank card crapped out at the beer store?  Not really essential? 

Not sure what happened there,  and the bank lady had no helpful hints.  “Maybe the chip was squished?”  I didn’t think they got “squished”.   At least the bank was open and I was able to get a new card. 

Ah technology. 

It’s all fine and dandy until it craps out.  She wanted to know if I wanted the “flash” on my card?  That’s so you can tap it up against one of the fancy new sensor type gizmos at coffee shops and gas stations.  It’s also there so someone can come by and steal the information from your card.  There’s an “app” for that,  apparently.

Admittedly I keep my wallet in my front pocket, and would probably notice someone waving their smart phone around my junk,  but I decided I didn’t need that feature.

 

So I struck out at Home Despot on Sunday.  Should have known.  It’s a store for the “do it yourselfer”.  So they had various types of drywall compound,  but I wanted plaster.   Yes,  plaster.  I had a bit of a gap to fill,  and I knew drywall compound wasn’t going to do the job.  It cracks too much when it cures,  if you put it on that thick.

That meant I had to go to a place where they have actual building supplies.  And people who know what they’re talking about.  Well,  maybe that’s harsh.  The bloke at Home Despot knew enough to know that they didn’t have what I wanted.  I suppose that would have to do.

 

 

So I took the “truck”.

  

That’s the stuff.  No fancy labels for the “do it yourselfer”.  It’s scratch coat plaster.  Mix up as much or as little as you need.

 

Works like a charm.

I had to dig a chunk of it out this morning, since it felt like it hadn’t gripped the way I liked.  Sure enough, there was some punky bits up in there.  So I had to mix up a wee bit more.   I’m sure you care.

Mañana.

 

Actually, speaking of trucks.  I have to get one.

Cramming stuff in the back of the Merc is starting to get a bit tired.

It is possible,  but not really practical.  I hate vehicle shopping,  but I need to suck it up. 

Those are shelves that I’ll massage into storage units for son-in-law’s comic books.  He and Daughter Number Two are getting their new digs nicely organised,  and there can never be too much storage.

Or getting stuff up off the counter,  say.

Put that up yesterday.

 

Meanwhile I’ve been pressed into service to go and rototill a small garden that Travelling Companion is going to “co-manage”   (like that term?) with her sister.   A rototiller does not fit in the back of the Merc,  so I have a call in to my nephew to borrow the truck I sold him in 2008. 

Still waiting.

 

I miss that truck.  *sigh*

 

His seventeen year old son has been driving it.  Hopefully I won’t be too horrified when I get behind the wheel.  *shudder*

I remember being a teenager.  And being at the wheel of a borrowed vehicle.   

Again.  *shudder*.

 

 

Well,  I better go load up my hawk..

 

 

No need to keep those sticks anywhere but back in the closet.  You know what I mean.

 

Thanks for stopping by.

 

.