The basement is finally finished…and there was much rejoicing!
I spent much of both last night and tonight dealing with the stuff I’m expected to take care of when such a project like this is certified for actual human occupation (well, or daily habitation by heathen children). Most importantly (to me), I hooked up all the DirecTV cabling, which gave me an excuse to purchase a coax crimper. Yes, I realize that most of you have no idea what that means or what it might be used for, so I’ll try to explain it in layman’s terms: it’s that tool thingy that puts that weird shiny ends on a cable.
I’ve needed the tool thingy many times in the past, but had a hard time justifying its purchse; it was over ten dollars, you know. Still, I might never actually use a pair of channel-locks correctly, or own a torque-wench, but I know exactly what to do with that crimper. Hi, my name is Puddin, and I’m a nerd (although not a geek, but explaining the finer points that differentiate them is another post).
Anyway, the basement is done, and the Puddinette and I will likely spend the weekend snapping at each other as we attempt to move the appropriate playthings from the upper-floor living areas into the playroom downstairs. The task is a daunting one, to say the least. I don’t know how this could have possibly happened, but it appears that my four darling children have acquired most stuff in the past seven years than I did in my first twenty-seven. I’m pretty sure they’ve got one of every matchbox car manufactured between 2004 and 2008, more plastic dinosaurs than there have been real fossilized versions found to date, and Lord only knows how many Barbie will be moving into my basement this weekend.
I’m thinking, too, that we might need to go ahead and preemptively issue a protection order for Barbie and her friends. They’ve lived a very quiet, sheltered, easy-going lifestyle in The Daughter’s room for most of their time in her possession. Now that I’ve thought about it, though, I’m a little concerned that once they move into the more co-ed type of environment in the basement, there’s a lot more potential for bad things to happen when everyone comes over for that Barbie Dream BBQ. I’m fear that Skipper, Malibu Barbie, or maybe Rapunzel Barbie might not leave the barbeque with their head and all extremities in place.
Sometime in the next two months, there’s a pretty good chance that Optimus Prime is either going to decapitate or marry Swears Like a Sailor Barbie. I’ll be happy like a little girl as long as either event takes place downstairs where I don’t have to watch it. And that is why we decided to do it the first place.