My Twitter friends may remember that sometime in September (or was it August?) I began degrouting our shower. The grout is original, which, while a high status in the art and fashion world, here means it's sometimes missing and sometimes moldy. I felt I had to shower after stepping out of my shower.
And my Twitter friends may recall that this project may indeed be the death of me (see--I can pick up a good southern phrase). Classic tweets regarding the project include:
wow. degrouting so much faster after Chris fixed the tool and showed me I could be rougher with it than I was. This is almost fun now! ()
my hands won't stop vibrating after using Dremel. I feel like a cartoon. ()
they ask me how I knew . . . grout gets in my eyes ()
guess I'm done today's grout work. Dremel not working again. At this rate, I'll finish by New Year's in time for resolution to never do this ()
Dremel bit snapped in half. Then my piano student stood me up. Lovely. (
Today's Cervantes' b-day (or what they think is his b-day). It's fitting I work on the grout in honor of Quixote. It's my personal windmill. ()
You see the deterioration--from optimism, joking, even song (and, yes, dance) to suspicions of insanity. Yesterday, after over a month of absence (due in part to legitimate reason--travel), I returned to the degrouting project.
To find the Dremel tool, once again, inoperable.
Okay, I can make lemonade (especially since we recently learned that our lime tree may be, indeed, a lemon tree). I'll work on getting out the caulk with the hand saw.
Uh-huh.
And this is where I met my nemesis.
Some of the caulk--the caulk my husband added to the shower a few years ago, stripped away, no problem. Some of the caulk, which must be decades old, held firm. The saw doesn't cut through it because the caulk is too putty-like. But neither can I peel it out because in that sense the caulk is too petrified (meaning hard, not scared).
You see my dilemna.
Removing the old caulk is harder than containing the blob in a thimble.
Which is why I've decided that I'm moving into a tent.
Indeed, the new earth cannot have mansions. Mansions mean upkeep, and who wants to regrout the showers?
I'm such a heretic. My first response is, "Isn't that what the people in hell are for?" *sigh*
Perhaps. A sort of "let the punishment fit the crime" theory. I like it. I think it's completely possible that degrouting and regrouting (along with other household projects from cleaning to mulching) may be the worst hell imaginable.
I like your way of thinking.
The phrase "personal windmill" is a good one. I like it. I like it a lot.
Um . . . sorry about the grout?
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