As I mentioned yesterday, the basement is finished and ready for occupation by hostile youths. Of course, that’s not to suggest that as soon as the contractor packed up his tools and fled for fear of having to put in yet another cable outlet it was fully complete, oh no. There were finishing touches that I needed to apply before we could begin the Great Toy Exodus of 2010. As you can no doubt guess, since it was me working on said touches, nothing went exactly to plan.
We chose to create a little art area in one of the corners of the room with a chalk board and bulletin board for the kids to use. The idea was to give them a place to go with any urges to write on the walls, so that all our other walls might remain unmarked. We had the chalk board painted on with that nifty blackboard paint, and decided to hang a standard cork bulletin board on the adjacent wall. Wednesday night, after driving to every possible cork board vendor in the area, we finally found one that was just the right size for our needs. I got out my trusty drill, hammer, laser level, and bubble level and went to work. Ten minutes later, I was asking the Puddinette to come approve the new addition.
She said it wasn’t quite level. It looked level to me; I had used the laser level to set the anchors and afterward my bubble level said it was just fine. As I think we’re all aware, though, when it comes to my opinion and that of my level as compared to that of my wife’s, well, the customer is always right. So I made a slight adjustment for her. After said correction, I felt compelled to admit that I was wrrr….um, wrrrr……uh….that she was riiiii…..well, that it looked better.
I also need to bring in the furniture. The only piece of furniture approved for duty in the play room, though, is an old loveseat in dire need of a brand new set of legs. The legs that I selected, of course, were a good inch or so shorter than the original set. I didn’t think what effect that inch and half would have on the end result until I stood smirking at the damn thing after flipping it over. It was just short enough that it conjured thoughts of it being specially made for the neighborhood Oompa Loompas that may or may not hang out in my basement when they aren’t cutting grass or shoveling snow. Obviously, I’ve since replaced those legs for longer ones, so the loveseat has a more standard height; I hope the little orange dudes aren’t pissed.
One of these days, I’ll get something right the first time. I hope that day doesn’t come soon, though. I suspect it’s going be a pretty cold one for most of the people in Hell.