The (“easy to install” my ass!) project from hell.

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Our new storm door arrived the other day.

It’s a nice door, not top of the line because I refuse to pay more for a custom order storm door than I would a used car… but it’s a decent quality. Better than the floor models they have in stock.

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And as you can see, my husband paid close attention to the opening instructions.

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The box promised “Easy Installation” so we figured we could handle it.

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We were wrong.

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The instructions were daunting, and not overly clear.

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We had to check them so many times, I taped the sheet to the kitchen door for easy reference.

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We spent a good hour getting prepped and making sure everything was positioned properly.

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And then spent another hour installing the hinge rail…. incorrectly.

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Which, by the Swiss cheese condition of the door frame? Clearly we weren’t the first to do.

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After another hour of fiddling… we high fived. The door was hung.

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This particular door has two hydraulic thingamabobs… you know, the doohickeys that hold it open. They’re not always easy to seat, so those instructions were taped to the door as well.

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The bottom one gave us trouble, as evidenced by the husband lying down on the job. It has this special whatchamacallit you tap with your foot to freeze the door open and it kept getting in the way of the screws needed to secure it.

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Another hour later, for a total of four, the door was hung. The whoosits were in place and we were ready to put on the handles and locks.

The ones the salesman told us came with the door.

The ones we didn’t have because they didn’t come with the door.

The ones the instructions said came separately.

The ones we had to make an hour long round trip to the store to purchase for an extra $100.

Grrr. 😡

By the time we got back, five and a half hours into the “easy installation”… we called it quits for the day and retired to the barn porch for adult beverages.

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With Lord Dudley Mountcatten trying in vain to push open the halfway installed door.

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News you can’t use.

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The very definition of useless, right here.

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Bet you didn’t think you’d be reading about that when you woke up this morning.

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Damn. I’ve had dates that were hard to get rid of, but this guy takes the cake.

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I’ve felt that way ever since Trump was elected.

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To which I say…

It’s about time.

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Have you ever heard of/tried Bubs?

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Never fear, I just ordered a 4 pack and will report back after arrival.

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There’s a mental image I didn’t need.

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While I don’t usually post politically charged content, this seemed like a potent statement on our current climate.

🤣

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Maine events.

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I had a good chuckle at some local Maine events recently.

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Whoopie pies are a thing up here. They come in numerous flavors, everyone makes them and everyone loves them. (Except my husband, for reasons I’ve never understood. They’re delightful) And while a wine pairing with whoopies might seem strange to some, it’s perfectly logical to us.

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Cocktails? Yes.

Fried bugs? No.

I’d have to be very, very happy to reach for those.

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Can’t believe I missed this one!

Maine has very few rabbits left in the wild and there are none in my area. I would totally have eaten pastries and cuddled bunnies!

😰

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Let’s play.

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We all have favorites.

This shouldn’t be difficult.

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For me, two immediately come to mind.

I’m a Jersey girl born and bred, and when I was growing up? Bruce ruled.

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I still have my original vinyl from 1975. I played it endlessly, learned all the words to all the songs and can still sing along verbatim to this day. Including a perfectly timed grunt on the title track. IYKYK.

Bruce’s raspy vocals filled with angst, Clarence’s mournful horn…Thunder Road, Jungleland. I can almost smell the shore.

❤️

My second perfect album?

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The year was 1992, MTV was all we watched and Clapton was mesmerizing. Stripped down acoustic guitar performances that seared right through your soul. Bluesy and heartfelt, it was a masterpiece. His tender version of Layla rocketed to the top but the lesser known songs like Before You Accuse Me and Nobody Knows You When You’re Down and Out still resonate. Tears in Heaven? I can still feel the pain.

❤️

Now you?

What’s your album of pure perfection…

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More mediocre maps.

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If you’re traveling internationally, this first one might come in handy.

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I’m not including the link to swipe. Just Google them for definitions and have fun with your future algorithms.

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If you’ve ever been to Maine, you know we’re very green.

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Maine is a great place to retire.

If you can afford it..

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My husband would call most of them slug a beds. He’s usually up at 4:00am.

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I haven’t noticed that many vinyl stores here, but maybe I’m not looking hard enough.

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Ticks can be a real problem here as we’re a very wooded state. My husband is a veritable magnet for the little bastards.

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No surprise ours is L. L. Bean

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First baby sighting…

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Just when I was getting worried we hadn’t seen any baby woodchucks?

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One brave little guy followed momma out of the shed.

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At first he didn’t know what to make of the carrot buffet…

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And wanted mom to feed him.

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But momma chuck isn’t exactly a hands paws on parent…

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And let him figure it out for himself.

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Before long he was happily munching alongside her.

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News you can’t use.

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Useless but (hopefully) entertaining. That’s my blog in a nutshell.

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Say what?

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I don’t call being two inches tall and looking exactly like a mouse normal for a human child, but what do I know?

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Mine is clearly an extra…. for when my front two wear out from excessive rolling.

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Leave it to a no nonsense Mainer. Angus King wants Medicare to pay for $12 bath mats for seniors so they won’t slip in the shower and break a hip. A simple and cheap solution, so naturally the government won’t go for it.

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I know nothing about the history of the pubic wig. And I plan on keeping it that way.

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I do believe I’ve found my spirit animal.

Cheers!

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