The Bathroom From Hell

Our master bathroom is just mean. It's got all pinky-peach colored tiles, little seashells everywhere, a nice big shower, it says "hello! Enjoy your time in the restroom!"

But then you come in and the shower is populated with baby things, not usable. The sink has gotten a cold or something -- it's become congested and basically only trickles water. And to cap it all off, the toilet has stopped flushing. Entirely. Mean bathroom.

As Samantha says, "It's so inviting and sparkly and then it shits all over you."

Well anyway, I had a Roto Rooter guy over, who helped remove the obstruction in the sink. And the toilet, believe it or not, I fixed it myself. Yes, I actually went back to the dreaded Home Depot and picked up a tank leveler and installed it on my own. It took me almost a half hour to get the thing in too because the old one was very stubborn. But it felt good to not pay the Roto Rooter guy $185 to do it. And hooray for me. The little baby got all growed up.

It's all about the little triumphs.

So now the bathroom isn't such a tease. The shower's still full of stuff though.

Some Assembly Required

The baby room had become overrun with boxes of furniture, so I figured it was time to bite the bullet and start assembling them.

I've been reading that putting furniture together is a rite of passage for new fathers. However, I believe that musicians should never assemble furniture. It's a cardinal rule. But I decided to break it.





I started with some easy stuff (you can see the "glider" and ottoman in the background). So far so good.

The changing table/dresser was next. After opening the box, I discovered that there was a part for every letter of the alphabet. I quickly ran out of room...and sanity.







Literally three hours later, I got the whole thing put together. If you look really closely here, you can see the bandaid on my index finger. Let's just say that you don't need sharp things to puncture your skin...a phillips head screwdriver will do the trick.




One down! Now I just have a desk, two bookshelves, a buffet, a crib, a bathroom shelf and the travel system to build... That should still leave me with two working fingers.

Oh, and there's still quite a bit of painting to do. But I don't have to do it.

Every time I paint, I complain. My Mom says I get it from her. I'm on a ladder, bending in all directions, splattering paint on every surface, whining "this is so boring," "I hate crown moulding," and "my everything hurts."

Needless to say, I was relieved of my painting duties, just so my wife didn't have to hear it anymore.

From Geek To Chic

I finally have internet access again. Yay! It's so weird to be disconnected. I was in the process of moving everything out to my brand spanking new studio (courtesy of my Dad the builder).

Here's was my old studio in the house:


It took me three days to get everything packed up and unplugged and sorted through...leaving this--


Then Nicole and I painted it a lovely shade of "here comes the baby" blue. After priming every known surface in the universe, and then painting those surfaces, and painting some of them again...we had spent three more days...We ended up with this--

A nice empty room with purty colors (it's bluer in real life than it looks in the picture). The next challenge -- baby furniture!

Journey of the Wood

The big fat studio move is officially underway! I'm packing up my office (other than the computer I'm currently typing this on) and preparing to walk it a few feet out to the garage. Yay!

A few months ago, the garage looked like this:

(That's my Dad, rolling important green stuff onto the floor before he placed the plywood.)











Here is the flooring we purchased. Pergo. It's interesting, the concept of a floor in a box.

The flooring sat quietly and considered its next move.










While our backs were turned, Pergo ninja'd his way to the garage and hid.

















He spied the bare plywood and got ideas.















He laid down and made the room all shiny and cozy.











Okay, I wish. Really though, my Dad slaved over sticky glue and interlocking laminate pieces all night. But it looks really nice.

Today he put in the baseboards, and the room is finally ready for me to move into. Which means I have to unplug this computer. Now...

Home Depot

I absolutely can't stand going to Home Depot. I mean, okay, there is the obvious reason: I'm a musician, clearly not a handyman. Not somebody who knows about band saws and drill bits and ballpeen hammers. Not somebody who could build you a nice bookshelf. No.

But aside from that, the very second I walk through the massive and boring doors of Home Depot, I can feel the energy sapping out of me. The horrible flourescent light, the ugly factory-ness of it all, and that smell. What is that smell?

Nobody is around to help you. And when somebody is around, they don't WANT to help you. They want you to know everything about band saws and drill bits and ballpeen hammers, and just get it yourself! Otherwise, they hate you. You waste their time. You make them earn their salary. I mean, they already have to work in this terribly lit, warehousy, smelly place. The last thing they need is somebody with questions.

This week, it seems like I'm at Home Depot every day. So, that's been fun.