neuroticgirl's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- fingers aren't that important, not really I made a birdhouse in the 9th grade for woodshop. It was horrid, really, really horrid. My mom wouldn't even put it out. She put it in the attic saying that it was so gorgeous that she didn't want anything to ahppen to it so she packed it in a box and put it in the attic. Of course I didn't believe that massive horse shit excuse, but even I had to admit it was hideous. This is a story that my family members are particularly fond of telling. It should have been expected though. If I haven't said it before I'll say it now. I am a complete spaz. I have no coordination what-so-ever. I'm just totally klutzy. Keeping that in my mind, imagine the sheer look of terror on my boy things face when I told him that I'm going to build a bookcase. Using his tools. Including the power tools. Mainly the saw. He is still in a state of panic. He won't leave me alone. Everywhere I go he is following me. He won't let the kids get near me. I think that he thinks I'm going to attempt to saw them in half. I haven't even busted out the tools yet. This is all Jenifers fault. She bought me that damn book that has me wanting to redecorate the entire house. If I end up with less fingers than I started with I fully intend on making her give me some of hers. I'm signing off now, and I'm going to go to the shed, and I'm going to get the power tools. God help us all. 11:18 a.m. - 3.31.01 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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