Who needs a self-help book when they have a caulking gun?
Being that I fancy myself to be a self-proclaimed life-long learner of completely useless and inane trivia and/or mildly mundane everyday comings and goings, it didn't come as a complete surprise that I left Home Depot two hours after I had initially come in. Who knew there were a hundred and twenty-eight different brands, varieties, consistencies, and uses for adhesive caulk? I do, that's who. As I scrutinized and meticulously perused my way down the aisle of foreign labels, I thought of how this all fit into the bigger picture of goals that I have long ago set for myself. Learning how to re-caulk a bathroom is only one small grain of sand within the long stretch of the shoreline of possibilities for proclaiming independence and self-empowerment. So as I rinse off the last visible residue on my hands and consequently, off everything else (messy messy project) I feel a sense of elation and self-construed pride in my abilities, however non-tasking or productive. Alright, I admit that maybe this induced high also has to do, in part, with the tiny un-ventilated area that is a cauldron of fumes that I've just spent considerable time in, but I'd like to think that it's a bit more than that. If only these short lived feelings of worth and industriousness did proliferate for a bit longer. It came and very quickly went, as I vehemently tried to open a very stubborn jar of peanut butter later this evening, and was left peanut-butterless, somewhat winded, and with a sore wrist. Next lofty long term goal: work on obtaining an unusually strong brachial radialis muscle in my forearm so that I won't be deprived of all the joys and wonders of things that come in impossibly airtight jars.
posted by Sheila @ 11/07/2004 07:40:00 PM
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