Let me tell you a little story about how I ended up with 1/2 a new floor.
If you haven't already picked up on it, I'm currently loosing my mind in the efforts to get my house listed. While most of the work is cleaning and decluttering, there are some bigger projects we need to tackle as well - and one of them is putting new flooring in the master bathroom. When we bought the house, this room was a sad version of what it should have been. It had ballerina purple walls with splotches of bright coral around the ceiling and floor boards, showing us not only that the previous color choice was hideous as well, but that whoever painted it did an absolutely horrible job. The builder's grade linoleum was in a sad state. There were water damage stains all around the toilet. The previous owners fixed the problem, and proved it, but we don't actually have that proof in our possession at this time (Aka, it would show up on an inspection, buyers may want it fixed and we have nothing to show them it already was). So, new floors are in order. We started by painting the walls a sunny yellow (called, butterfly bush...hmmm...), and touching up their horrible painting mistakes. Next step, new floor.
The whole family (minus kitty) went to Lowe's to get the floor. I was totally prepared - the floor was already washed & primed to go, and we'd previously brought paper work home to help us chose which flooring to get. The only thing left was to see the colors in person so we knew exactly what it looked like, and bring it home. We make our decision (Armstrong brand peel & stick tiles, Fieldstone is the "color" name), and discover that they only have one box of 30 tiles left. We needed at least 70. We ask a Lowe's employee for help....and I think this is where things first started going wrong. We should have found a different person. He was an older heavy-set man who was literally dripping in sweat, out of breath, and repeating things over and over as if he were trying to remember 10 different things at once that had nothing to do with us. He had us standing around with a cranky baby (whose bed time was coming up fast) while he ran back and forth to different computers, checking inventory, looking for it in "the back", searching for pallets of boxes high up on shelves. He was confused by the computer's unit of measure....apparently it said there were 90 in stock, and he originally took this for 90 boxes. It was actually 90 pieces, and the rest of the pieces were opened and being sold individually as samples for a higher price than a full box would cost us. SO. He checks a computer again, and tells us that another nearby Lowe's has 250 of the exact same thing in stock so we should go there.
It was annoying, but I knew that at least little man could snooze a bit on the ride. I wrote down the brand, color & number code of the tiles for Matt and he ran in to get them. He came out with 2 more boxes. So it seemed that we were all set. We got home, I fed Luke & put him to bed, and then I really wanted to see how the tiles looked in the bathroom. As soon as I did that, I got the itch to start working on it. I thought....why wait for tomorrow when I could possibly get half of it done tonight?! Matt even helped me. We got to work, measuring things out, peeling and sticking tiles, practicing cutting them. It was going so smoothly - we were impressed at how easy this was! We got through a whole box, which was the majority of the surface area, and we thought - what the hell! Let's open another box and keep going while we've got momentum.
So, I grab another box. Keep in mind, we just carried these in from the car and we had no idea which box came from which Lowe's. I pull out the first tile, go to hand it to Matt and I say, WHOA, HOLD UP! (He immediately started singing that song....."heeeeeyyyy", you know the one, right? In the moment I was happy he was making light of the very real SUCK that was about to hit us). I felt the new tile in my hand and realized (after peeling and sticking 30 of them already...) it felt TOTALLY different. The texture of the surface wasn't anything like the ones we'd just used! The colors were the same....the brand, color name & number code were all the same. But I was slowly realizing that not only was the texture different, the pattern of the tile was slightly different also. Both things subtle enough that you wouldn't realize it until you held one, but obvious enough when you install them that you've got two different types of tiles going on.
I checked the labels, and the ONLY thing different was a random number that I am assuming is a time stamp - when the tiles were made. The box we'd already installed had the number 082808, or August 28, 2008. The box I had just opened had the number 051309, or May 13, 2009. This is when my stomach flopped. The box we had just used was the OLDER version of this tile. In other words, we probably can't get more of it.
FML!
So, here's where it stands. Half finished bathroom floor. An hour of wasted time with "old" tiles. Two boxes of unusable tiles. No clue if we can even find the old ones in existence. Someone, probably multiple someones, are going to get verbally reamed via telephone as soon as 9:00am hits and I can start making calls. Nothing can ever go smoothly, can it?
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
how i got here to get where i'm going.
When I was 19, I was in a rough spot. I'd dated this guy (formerly believed to be the love of my life) for more than 2 years, and when it was officially over, I was lost. I couldn't remember who or what I was before him (because of that I have never again let myself go that much - lesson learned). I was dating all the wrong people for 2 and 3 week stints, and trying to force myself into a party lifestyle that I knew wasn't where I belonged. I even messed up school - I stopped going to classes, stopped doing my homework, completely ignoring the fact that I even had somewhere to be some days. Mostly I was trying to change myself into the person he seemed to want in a last desperate effort to get him back and hang onto him. Ohhh to be a teenage girl - so glad that's over.
During my year of chaos, I met someone....a very special someone who in his own little way made me step back and evaluate everything I was trying to be only to realize that being ME was exactly what he liked. Dare I say, loved. In the midst of my wildness, I made plans to go on my very first Spring Break with friends...so after I met him I regretted this - I just wanted to stick around and spend my time with him - becoming myself again. I went anyway, to avoid wasting money and disappointing my friends. I remember very distinctly, looking around at this different way of life, the urban feel of the bustling nightclubs, the warm weather that lasted all year 'round, and thinking "I need to move". At the time it made perfect sense. My mom and I were absolutely destroying our relationship by me living there - we were two extremely similar adults, clashing. I didn't want to share my chaotic mess of a life with her, or anyone - other than mr. wonderful. It seemed like the perfect opportunity to wipe my slate clean, to get back to who I REALLY was and leave the past year buried back in my hometown.
So I did it. Mr. Wonderful said he wanted to move to Charlotte and I thought, "hell yeah!". I started trashing my hometown and everything about it - something that I now know was due to my own odd way of coping with the fact I was leaving. We planned and saved our money and collected people's left over housewares, and off we went. It was fun for the first few weeks. It was exciting and interesting and exhilarating. We had nothing but our clothes, lawn chairs and boxes for furniture, and a couple grand in the bank. We had to make our own way - hunt down jobs, bring our apartment up to speed, make friends - the whole 9 yards. Three weeks after the move we had to go back home for a wedding (I was a bridesmaid so I didn't have a choice). We'd spent the whole time with family and friends, soaking up our short time together. When we returned from the trip all I felt was this overwhelming sense of regret. Kind of a, what the hell did I do, moment. I loved my boyfriend - more than anything, more than anyone....and having my OWN life was fantastic, but I gave up much much more than I realized I had. We'd been here one measly month, and I already asked him if we could move home.
What you should know about Mr. Wonderful, is that he is extremely ambitious. Career and achievement are his middle names. So going back was unheard of to him - impossible. And before you think that he was insensitive or selfish in those feelings, I should tell you that he gave up the FBI for me. Technically it was for him - in that he came to the decision by himself, but he came to that decision because of my feelings about it. He chose me over the FBI, and even though no one will come out and say that....it's the truth. The FBI was his dream, and he picked me instead. I have felt like I owe him ever since then. So....I did a little re-adjusting, possibly learned a few unhealthy coping mechanisms, and sucked it up. In his FBI decision, he displayed how much he loved me - how much he would give up for me. So I decided to do the same. I have never been happy in Charlotte - I have missed each and every person I left at home every single day, I have hated the different lifestyle, the lack of defined seasons, the hellish heat in august & september, the lack of WNY food, and the sheer number of people crowding everything. But as long as I put all my efforts into my little home - my little family, I can be happy.
If you haven't already figured it out, Mr. Wonderful is now my husband. We've dealt with our clashing lifestyles and dreams because we fit together in every other imaginable way. It has certainly remained interesting - and I think we are better for it. When we found out that our first baby was on his way, Matt (husband, aka mr. wonderful) started to change his tune. He knew that he had officially run out of reasons to stay here - my reasoning trumped all. I never presented it to him this way. I didn't have to. He may be career driven but family means more to him than anything when you get right down to it. So baby boy was born, and I didn't even have to ask. He was on board. SO on board that he even agreed to list the house. And here we are.
So begins Supermomish's Buffalo Chronicles.
For the last week I have been cleaning, de-cluttering, and organizing for hours and hours a time. You can imagine this is not an easy feat with a 6 month old. A 6 month old mama's boy, no less. And Matt is working overtime in the evenings and on the weekends - and he does most of it from home, but still can't be any help while he'd doing it. So I'm kind of carrying this whole load on my shoulders. I suppose that is fitting. I'm getting what I asked for, right? I just wish it wasn't so extremely hard. All I want is to de-clutter my house, get it on the freaking market, and have someone buy it. So much easier said than done.
I want to go home. Where are those magic ruby slippers when you need them?
During my year of chaos, I met someone....a very special someone who in his own little way made me step back and evaluate everything I was trying to be only to realize that being ME was exactly what he liked. Dare I say, loved. In the midst of my wildness, I made plans to go on my very first Spring Break with friends...so after I met him I regretted this - I just wanted to stick around and spend my time with him - becoming myself again. I went anyway, to avoid wasting money and disappointing my friends. I remember very distinctly, looking around at this different way of life, the urban feel of the bustling nightclubs, the warm weather that lasted all year 'round, and thinking "I need to move". At the time it made perfect sense. My mom and I were absolutely destroying our relationship by me living there - we were two extremely similar adults, clashing. I didn't want to share my chaotic mess of a life with her, or anyone - other than mr. wonderful. It seemed like the perfect opportunity to wipe my slate clean, to get back to who I REALLY was and leave the past year buried back in my hometown.
So I did it. Mr. Wonderful said he wanted to move to Charlotte and I thought, "hell yeah!". I started trashing my hometown and everything about it - something that I now know was due to my own odd way of coping with the fact I was leaving. We planned and saved our money and collected people's left over housewares, and off we went. It was fun for the first few weeks. It was exciting and interesting and exhilarating. We had nothing but our clothes, lawn chairs and boxes for furniture, and a couple grand in the bank. We had to make our own way - hunt down jobs, bring our apartment up to speed, make friends - the whole 9 yards. Three weeks after the move we had to go back home for a wedding (I was a bridesmaid so I didn't have a choice). We'd spent the whole time with family and friends, soaking up our short time together. When we returned from the trip all I felt was this overwhelming sense of regret. Kind of a, what the hell did I do, moment. I loved my boyfriend - more than anything, more than anyone....and having my OWN life was fantastic, but I gave up much much more than I realized I had. We'd been here one measly month, and I already asked him if we could move home.
What you should know about Mr. Wonderful, is that he is extremely ambitious. Career and achievement are his middle names. So going back was unheard of to him - impossible. And before you think that he was insensitive or selfish in those feelings, I should tell you that he gave up the FBI for me. Technically it was for him - in that he came to the decision by himself, but he came to that decision because of my feelings about it. He chose me over the FBI, and even though no one will come out and say that....it's the truth. The FBI was his dream, and he picked me instead. I have felt like I owe him ever since then. So....I did a little re-adjusting, possibly learned a few unhealthy coping mechanisms, and sucked it up. In his FBI decision, he displayed how much he loved me - how much he would give up for me. So I decided to do the same. I have never been happy in Charlotte - I have missed each and every person I left at home every single day, I have hated the different lifestyle, the lack of defined seasons, the hellish heat in august & september, the lack of WNY food, and the sheer number of people crowding everything. But as long as I put all my efforts into my little home - my little family, I can be happy.
If you haven't already figured it out, Mr. Wonderful is now my husband. We've dealt with our clashing lifestyles and dreams because we fit together in every other imaginable way. It has certainly remained interesting - and I think we are better for it. When we found out that our first baby was on his way, Matt (husband, aka mr. wonderful) started to change his tune. He knew that he had officially run out of reasons to stay here - my reasoning trumped all. I never presented it to him this way. I didn't have to. He may be career driven but family means more to him than anything when you get right down to it. So baby boy was born, and I didn't even have to ask. He was on board. SO on board that he even agreed to list the house. And here we are.
So begins Supermomish's Buffalo Chronicles.
For the last week I have been cleaning, de-cluttering, and organizing for hours and hours a time. You can imagine this is not an easy feat with a 6 month old. A 6 month old mama's boy, no less. And Matt is working overtime in the evenings and on the weekends - and he does most of it from home, but still can't be any help while he'd doing it. So I'm kind of carrying this whole load on my shoulders. I suppose that is fitting. I'm getting what I asked for, right? I just wish it wasn't so extremely hard. All I want is to de-clutter my house, get it on the freaking market, and have someone buy it. So much easier said than done.
I want to go home. Where are those magic ruby slippers when you need them?
Monday, July 13, 2009
let's give it a go.
So, not only am I supermomish, I'm also superbloggerish. As in, not super at blogs at all. I think I have internet ADD. I get sucked into one thing after another and then can't keep up! Oye.
I want a blog I can be proud of. I am mostly proud of this one. I'm completely honest here. I was thrilled like never before with everything that I could make this blog be. But while I dig being semi-secretive and anonymous, after a while I want to get a little more personal. Say names. Show pictures. Share it with people I know in real life. At which point it all falls apart because I already have a site for that. Open Diary, ever hear of it? I've been there, faithfully, since 2001. I write almost every day (sometimes multiple times a day), and I've made friends there. Friends that I know are reading me - friends that actually KNOW what my interests are and what my daily life is like, what my cat's name is, what my favorite color is. So do I really want ANOTHER outlet like that? Sigh......I don't know. I love this blog, I do....I LOVE IT! I don't want to leave it. But I feel like it's this great thing I'm going to go and ruin by slathering it with my personal life rather than just my daily happenings in well-thought-out form. (At Open Diary, I write as if I'm having a casual conversation with each one of my readers....while here, it feels more like story time). And if I just start coming out with it, I WILL be found. These friends of mine are no idiots - they will discover who I am, and pretty soon I will no longer be able to just shout it out and say whatever without consequence. Or at least, without pissing off people I know personally.
What to do, what to do.
This much I know. Open Diary has a lot of drama floating around right now - mommy cliques and people with their panties so far up their butts they can taste them (ew). People who are trying way too hard to be things they're not. Which, is why THIS blog is so appealing even though it means breaking my 8 year loyalties. But on blogger, I feel like an idiot. I don't have flashy contests and things....I don't really have any connections here. While there's drama at OD, there is also community....that so far has gone unmatched. It feels comfortable there. (Even though, I pay $24 for a year there....and nothing here...hmmm....)
Maybe this. Maybe....I go on a bit of an OD hiatus. Only going there when I absolutely need to spew some nonsense. I put my bloggy efforts into this lovely place, get organized to a point that I can love it as I do OD, and see if I'm happier here. It could very well be worth it. The thing is, though.....in order for me to "let go" of OD...at least enough to make supermomish my priority, I'm going to need to be open about who I am. So, let's do this introduction thing, shall we?
Ahem. My real name is Jenn. I will be 1/4 of a century old next month (eeek!). My husband's name is Matt and we were married on August 11, 2007. My son's name is Lukas (though we usually call him Luke, Lukey, Luker, Lukey-poo, Little Man, or Chubs). He is 6 months old now. We have a cat named Odin who is 5 years old. We live in Charlotte, NC but we are from Buffalo, NY. We own our home and are currently trying to sell it so we can move back to Buffalo - hopefully this year. I am a SAHM, and my husband works for a major bank (one of the majorist). I love reading, scrapbooking, and cooking. I have an addiction to buying/collecting books and spending time on Charlottemommies.com. I have special soft spots for the March of Dimes & the SPCA - both of which I've been contributing to for a while now.
How's that for dry and boring? :)
Well, now you know. I'm going to get to work on organizing this thing and I hope to turn out something I love (and can stick to) and I hope you'll join me for the ride!
I want a blog I can be proud of. I am mostly proud of this one. I'm completely honest here. I was thrilled like never before with everything that I could make this blog be. But while I dig being semi-secretive and anonymous, after a while I want to get a little more personal. Say names. Show pictures. Share it with people I know in real life. At which point it all falls apart because I already have a site for that. Open Diary, ever hear of it? I've been there, faithfully, since 2001. I write almost every day (sometimes multiple times a day), and I've made friends there. Friends that I know are reading me - friends that actually KNOW what my interests are and what my daily life is like, what my cat's name is, what my favorite color is. So do I really want ANOTHER outlet like that? Sigh......I don't know. I love this blog, I do....I LOVE IT! I don't want to leave it. But I feel like it's this great thing I'm going to go and ruin by slathering it with my personal life rather than just my daily happenings in well-thought-out form. (At Open Diary, I write as if I'm having a casual conversation with each one of my readers....while here, it feels more like story time). And if I just start coming out with it, I WILL be found. These friends of mine are no idiots - they will discover who I am, and pretty soon I will no longer be able to just shout it out and say whatever without consequence. Or at least, without pissing off people I know personally.
What to do, what to do.
This much I know. Open Diary has a lot of drama floating around right now - mommy cliques and people with their panties so far up their butts they can taste them (ew). People who are trying way too hard to be things they're not. Which, is why THIS blog is so appealing even though it means breaking my 8 year loyalties. But on blogger, I feel like an idiot. I don't have flashy contests and things....I don't really have any connections here. While there's drama at OD, there is also community....that so far has gone unmatched. It feels comfortable there. (Even though, I pay $24 for a year there....and nothing here...hmmm....)
Maybe this. Maybe....I go on a bit of an OD hiatus. Only going there when I absolutely need to spew some nonsense. I put my bloggy efforts into this lovely place, get organized to a point that I can love it as I do OD, and see if I'm happier here. It could very well be worth it. The thing is, though.....in order for me to "let go" of OD...at least enough to make supermomish my priority, I'm going to need to be open about who I am. So, let's do this introduction thing, shall we?
Ahem. My real name is Jenn. I will be 1/4 of a century old next month (eeek!). My husband's name is Matt and we were married on August 11, 2007. My son's name is Lukas (though we usually call him Luke, Lukey, Luker, Lukey-poo, Little Man, or Chubs). He is 6 months old now. We have a cat named Odin who is 5 years old. We live in Charlotte, NC but we are from Buffalo, NY. We own our home and are currently trying to sell it so we can move back to Buffalo - hopefully this year. I am a SAHM, and my husband works for a major bank (one of the majorist). I love reading, scrapbooking, and cooking. I have an addiction to buying/collecting books and spending time on Charlottemommies.com. I have special soft spots for the March of Dimes & the SPCA - both of which I've been contributing to for a while now.
How's that for dry and boring? :)
Well, now you know. I'm going to get to work on organizing this thing and I hope to turn out something I love (and can stick to) and I hope you'll join me for the ride!
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