Me VS The Heat Vents

So I did what every thirty-six-year-old does on her birthday, and went shopping for heating vents. Because, well, I am determined to be better at heating vents than the cretin handymen my landlord keeps on dragging in. So out of two vents, I got one right. But I forgot the stuff to stick them to the ceiling, so what should have been effortless is turning into a kerfuffle. Plus the one has to go back because it’s about 1/16 of an inch too big. But the one I got right, I sanded and spackled and painted the hole around it, so it won’t be a big Frankenstein mess of mismatched screws, bare gyproc, and random washers poking out of the ceiling.


I’m flailing, but I’m not yet an imbecile, and it’s like my dad always says: Knowing how has nothing to do with it.


Oh, and Richer Than God is now in my blogroll. Because I couldn’t actually embed it like people who can use technology. I am, however, a demon with spackle. I like that word. Spackle spackle spackle. I think I’m going to watch the video again and then see if there’s anything else I can spackle.

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