Didn't do much. I helped Robyn put together her kid's bedroom furniture. It's the cheap Sauder stuff, but I liked it, new matresses too. I'm so jealous.
Putting the furniture together is the tedious part. It takes about 8 hours of consistent effort to put two of those kits together. And if someone is staning over your shoulder asking questions is nerve-shattering. No, niether Robyn nor her mother critcized my assembly of the pressboard monstrosities, but I can only imagine that most domestic abuse cases start with a Suader furniture kit. Imagine a trailer somewhere. The patriarch of the family, a marginally educated man,trying to decipher the instructions through a haze of cigarette smoke, a beer buzz, kids screaming, tv blasting, and wife critiqueing every move.
He starts swearing at all of them because it's obvious only to him that he can't focus due to the nagging, and screaming, and the tv. He can't even hear himself think, let alone figure out the cryptic instructions that seem to be in every language but English. Now his kids are crying, his wife is now screaming at him for talking to his family like that, he is slipping into a psychotic rage even now. He goes to leave, he needs to calm down, she wants to fight. She says a few cutting remarks blocking his path out. He pushes her out of the way and makes a few choice comments in retort. She picks up the the first breakable thing she can grab and hurls it with all her might towards his head. It shatters and and rends delicate flesh., sending warm blood flowing. She pushes him from the door and threatens him. His instincts have gone from flight to fight and stands up to beat her within an inch of her life. Next he beat beats all of his kids and sends them running. This is about the time the sheriff shows up and sees a drunken rage.
He's hauled off in a police cruiser, she's in the back of an ambulance. A social worker is with the kids trying to find relatives to take them in and two detectives are taking pictures and sorting out the the clutter: a shattered porcilin unicorn, shredded cardboard, empty beercans, spilled ashtays, and a half assembled Sauder entertainment center, just out of layaway this morning. Damn you Sauder, damn you.
I made a few diagnostic test to my ranger. Compression seems to be strong. I took off some of the sensors that could be cleaned and soaked them in solvent. I'll reattach them in the next few days to see if it makes a difference. If not, I'll replace the uncleanable sensors and see what we have from there. I still feel good about the potental of the truck, it just needs tlc.
As of yesterday, I'm so sick of Best Buy, I can't stand it. I have something I want to do and I can't, I ask a week in advance to help me out, but they refuse, in a threatening manner no less. I think it's the department I'm in. I'll see about transferring to another one and perhaps I'll enjoy it more. I'll probably quit either way.
Man, I gots to hit that lottery.
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3 comments:
I'm not a staunch beliver in odds. Probability measures likelyhood of a desired outcome. But in that range, it could happen or not. 1 in 1000 odds really means nothing. But I see what you're getting at.
It kinda bothers me that of all that fine writing, I only get a comment about the last sentence.
I liked the Sauder story. I saw it ending with them locking it away in the back room they had on Friday the thirteenth the tv series.
I never finished one of those things without having some mysterious piece left over that I knew was of some importance so I kept it in the junk drawer.
I had a theory that it was like a bonus piece and that if you got like the whole bedroom suit then you would have enough mystery pieces left over to build something cool.
Like the Sauder time machine. It would move you back in time like three seconds.
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