It sat. First in the living room in clear view. Then I moved it to the bathroom and placed it in his sink. Nothing.
So, I asked the OT for help installing it. And we did the best we could, following the instructions. I even measured out exactly where I wanted it and traced an outline around the flanges at the top and bottom.
We glued the cleats in place yesterday. It cured 24 hours overnight. And M tried screwing everything together ABD OF COURSE IT IS FUCKED UP.
He then suggested “it’ll do,” and when I attempted to grab the bar and put probsbly 10-20 pounds of pressure on it, the bar ripped from the cleat without difficulty. Yeah. “It’ll do.” What it will do is facilitate ne snapping my neck.
So M set about criticizing the OT’s work, and that he could have done a better job, which just invoked my inner Kali-ma level rage, “Yeah? BUT YOU DIDN’T!!! I ASJED YOU FOR HELP! IT SAT FOR 4-5 FUCKING DAYS AND YOU DIDBT BOTHER EVEN OPENING THE BOX! I HAVEN'T SHOWERED IN THREE FUCKING WEEKS!!
I have been on my feet for over three hours puttering in the kitchen. Food prep. Cleaning. Setting up my coffee pot for tomorrow. Unloading AND loading the dishwasher. Corn bread baked. Black bean mango salad made. Jubilee Chicken made. Chicken stock made. Eggs boiled. Carrots prepared for dinner. Ribs in the slow cooker. Not once did he say, “Rest. You have been on your feet too long.”
I am enraged. And I am tired of bird baths. Barely three weeks into this and I am miserable.
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