Three stooges

So, here we are, holding this cabinet up against the wall while Dad's getting the electric drill ready with the right bit so he can screw the screws in.

And then we stand there, Mom and I, holding the damn thing up. I had to contort myself into an odd, unnatural position to get around the washer so I could hold it in just the right place. Mom was playing footsies with the laundry sink.

The funny thing about holding weights up sort of above your head but kind of out from you as well, is that your arms get tired. The same is to be said of holding a storage cabinet, especially when previously mentioned father is trying to manouveur the stepladder around the litterbox and making stupid jokes about it being shitty.

The fun only intensifies when said father climbs up there and finds that something is amiss. "What in the sam hell? Jesus Christ. Trust me to measure that ass backwards," he says, "I guess I should take a cabinetmaking course someday. You see that there? I measured from this side instead of that side, so these holes were supposed to line up with the studs but now they won't. Aww, piss..."

"Well, fix it!" Mom says, just as I do. She and I have green personalities, which is to say we build straight bridges at the shortest point across the river, while Dad's more of an orange person, building a levitating rollercoaster with flying butresses and helipad, bungee jumping and fine dining to get you across the river, but downstream a bit, because you really shouldn't miss the canyon over there. It's something to see.

"But I need to get a drill bit," he replies.

"Do it then," she says.

He re-manouvers the stepladder away from the litterbox so he can get the door open and then proceeds towards the shop. Mom and I wait until he's out of earshot before we burst into laughter.

Later, he took this picture of myself and Sally, but my camera wasn't set to autofocus at the time. Otherwise it'd be a good picture.