Tubs o'fun
Well, I have good news to report: I do, in fact, have a brand-new tub in my bathroom as we speak.
Of course, since this is the Project of Doom, that means not all is well in Tubville. The eh news is that dad was not able to rent a truck to bring it home. Well, he *could* have, but that would have meant waiting four hours. No, no, he has car carriers that strap onto the roof, so that's where he put the tub. He called to give me a head's-up and I watched him turn down the street with this large box on top of his car. He looked like Clark Griswold. Also, I was surprised the tub was in a box; I half expected it to just be a bathtub. The box was really heavy but the tub less so. And, by skipping the truck, dad saved $80. Sweet.
However, the apron part--you know, the whole reason we had to get a second new tub in the first place--overhung the bottom of the tub by several inches. Uh, that's not good. Dad ended up having to make a couple more trips to the hardware store to pick up 2x4s and backer board to help shore up the tub's bottom. He thinks it will work, so fine.
As for the old tub, it is still in our possession. Dad did bring it back in after the fiasco last week, but we are not in need of it any longer. He put it out for garbage day but nobody claimed it; it was still there this morning. I did get a picture of it for posterity--sorry, on film--but he moved it to the side of the house before mom got back from the funeral. Good, because the neighbors to the south of us are trying to sell their house again. I know there's nothing classier than seeing your potential next-door neighbors with a tub in their front yard, but alas, it's not as if they had an open house today.
And as for the funeral, I guess it went okay. My grandmother wore a huge black hat; my grandfather, a Hawaiian shirt. But my grandfather was so touched that all of mom's cousins remembered him that he called and asked for their addresses and phone numbers. I gave him what I had. Oh, and Jeanne apparently suggested that we have an annual cousins reunion in the summertime. When my great-grandma was still alive, we would get together around Labor Day to celebrate her birthday (September 6th), but she's been gone almost eight years now. Hmm, could that be why I didn't really recognize most people? Mom was for it, to the point where she wants to remind everyone about it when she sends her Christmas cards. I warned her that people might think *she* would want to host it--God forbid--and she'd said Jeanne even mentioned hosting it, so maybe she'd put *that* in the cards. We'll see. But at least everyone seemed to get along.
Of course, since this is the Project of Doom, that means not all is well in Tubville. The eh news is that dad was not able to rent a truck to bring it home. Well, he *could* have, but that would have meant waiting four hours. No, no, he has car carriers that strap onto the roof, so that's where he put the tub. He called to give me a head's-up and I watched him turn down the street with this large box on top of his car. He looked like Clark Griswold. Also, I was surprised the tub was in a box; I half expected it to just be a bathtub. The box was really heavy but the tub less so. And, by skipping the truck, dad saved $80. Sweet.
However, the apron part--you know, the whole reason we had to get a second new tub in the first place--overhung the bottom of the tub by several inches. Uh, that's not good. Dad ended up having to make a couple more trips to the hardware store to pick up 2x4s and backer board to help shore up the tub's bottom. He thinks it will work, so fine.
As for the old tub, it is still in our possession. Dad did bring it back in after the fiasco last week, but we are not in need of it any longer. He put it out for garbage day but nobody claimed it; it was still there this morning. I did get a picture of it for posterity--sorry, on film--but he moved it to the side of the house before mom got back from the funeral. Good, because the neighbors to the south of us are trying to sell their house again. I know there's nothing classier than seeing your potential next-door neighbors with a tub in their front yard, but alas, it's not as if they had an open house today.
And as for the funeral, I guess it went okay. My grandmother wore a huge black hat; my grandfather, a Hawaiian shirt. But my grandfather was so touched that all of mom's cousins remembered him that he called and asked for their addresses and phone numbers. I gave him what I had. Oh, and Jeanne apparently suggested that we have an annual cousins reunion in the summertime. When my great-grandma was still alive, we would get together around Labor Day to celebrate her birthday (September 6th), but she's been gone almost eight years now. Hmm, could that be why I didn't really recognize most people? Mom was for it, to the point where she wants to remind everyone about it when she sends her Christmas cards. I warned her that people might think *she* would want to host it--God forbid--and she'd said Jeanne even mentioned hosting it, so maybe she'd put *that* in the cards. We'll see. But at least everyone seemed to get along.