Thoughts and Caulk

The gorgeous and hilarious Tink of Pickled Beef has nominated me (me!) for a Thinking Bloggers Award!

I’m beside myself with joy, especially since I have been feeling rather uninspired and blase with my writing of late. Ironically, the award comes on a day I am about to submit a post entitled “Who Needs a BitchSlap?”

Not exactly thought provoking 🙂 So I will leave that for another time.

Now, I am supposed to share the love and submit 5 blogs that I believe deserve a Thinking Blog award. Problem is, as I sit down and type this, I realize I have not actually been reading many blogs of late. Only a handful. All of which appear to have received this already.

You see, my 6 month old does not sleep as much as she used to making it difficult to get on here and read. When I do find the time, I am channeling my camera withdrawal to perusing photoblog after photoblog. All I can do is promise to submit my five when I get my act together 🙂

Instead I will dedicate the remainder of this post to Tink (who has recently bought a new home) and to my brother and sister-in-law who are moving in to their first house this weekend. Bal and I did the very same thing just over 3 years ago and while our visions of all new furniture, a work bench and initiating every room of the house have still not been realized, we do not regret the move in the least…

Caulk a Doodle Doo

“You want to recock?” I question unamused. Having just returned from the Home Inspection of what will soon be our first home, my boyfriend/co-owner/fellow indebtee suddenly has infinite plans of improvements for when we move in. I only half listen to tales of tiling, workbenches and heated floors. Instead, my mind wanders to my own plans of bold paint and a mass exodus of our dorm style IKEA furniture.

Of course, we are both delusional at this point. We do not yet know how broke we are. Our down payment money is still in the bank after all. It sits there like a security blanket, lying snug and content while we are getting mortgages settled, doing mundane paperwork with lawyers, and waiting for closing day. Until that day arrives, we remain exhilarated and overjoyed that we are going to be homeowners. But then it comes. And reality invades us with the thousands of dollars down payment ripped mercilessly from our account. We are left with lawyers and home inspectors and Insurance to pay and nothing but a credit card to pay them with. Staring dumbfounded at each other, we immediately comprehend there will be no heated floors or new furniture. There may not even be any heat.

Thankful that new homeownership provides free bottles of wine in congratulations, I grasp tightly to the nearest bottle and take comfort that I do not need electric heat to warm my insides.

While I pacify my fear with booze, Bal clutches on to the nearest tool. Digging through a tool box that apparently magically appears with homeownership, he man handles what I can only guess is a wrench and mumbles incoherently about what suspiciously sounds like cock talk.

One glass of wine down and I get up the nerve. “Did you say recock?” I inquire. “As in you have already cocked? With the home inspector?” I implore with no idea what is going on. I down my second glass of wine quickly.

“There will be NO COCKING ALLOWED in my house!” I suddenly bellow having no idea what I am talking about but certain one cock in the house is enough.

Bal stares incredulously at me but says nothing. With no money in the bank and half a bottle of wine in my belly, he understands that one misplaced word will have me pulling at my hair and running madly out of the room, much the way Kramer enters one.

But I can take it no more. “What exactly is it you are cocking?” I have to ask.

“Like, oh my god, like, are you that stupid?” is the look on his face.

Instead he grunts, “The bathtub.”

Shaking my head in surrender, I implore “Besides having way to much fun saying cock over and over, please inform me as to what the hell we are talking about!”
We both laugh as Bal explains that the home inspector suggested we re-caulk the bathtub. Then he describes what that means.

“Oh” is all I can manage to say with a shrug of the shoulders. “I would have just bought a new bathtub.” And that is my first lesson in owning your own home. It is not necessary to go out and buy everything new and fancy, when all you really need is a little cock. Umm, caulk.


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