24 January 2011

Call me Vila... Sara Vila.

Have you ever had a conversation with Bob Vila. I have... well only in my head (that's another story all together) but the other day I was admiring my new faucet and accessories thinking, "Oh you look far better than your predecessor and work better too." as that thought was running through my mind I shoved about 6 lemons worth of lemon rind into the black hole that I like to call my disposal. I turned on my trusty faucet and flipped the switch just like Dr. Frankenstein but instead of my disposal roaring to life as it has for the past year and a half it muttered, grumbled, gargled and then stopped. Stopped dead in its tracks I mean. Ah, I thought poor thing is tired and over worked so I sat there turned off the switch and let it take a little nap ( about 3.5 seconds because I'm really not that patient). I threw the switch again and nothing not one ummph or harumph to be heard. Just then I heard my inner Bob Vila tell me clear out the lemons. So I did. I mean Bob is always right ya know. I cleared out the sheared lemons and flipped the switch. Nothing. Bob suggested flipping the breaker. Nothing. I skulked into the family room where T was diligently playing a game on NCAA. I told him that the never ending black hold had died. He retorted, "What did you do to make it die." "Nothing" "Really," he said "you didn't do anything to it?" "No... Nothing that I can think of." So he came to check it out and didn't have any more success than Bob and I had previously. Then T started harumphing and looking into the cost of buying a new one when Bob suggested I push the little red button on the bottom of the disposal. I did and it worked. An hours worth of looking, worrying and harumphing was over and only because I watched Home Improvement shows as part of my Saturday morning alternative cartoons. So I started dancing and singing - I fixed the faucet and you couldn't do it- in T's general vicinity and I'm not proud of rubbing his nose in it but its not often my own personal Bob Vila makes me more handy than my handy man. As I was dancing and singing (all of which rivaled Winona Ryder in the crucible) my husband kindly looked at me and stated, " Aren't you the one that broke it? So in essence you aren't really that handy." I stopped and skulked back to the kitchen. Defeated. Why did I tell you this stunning story of the rise and fall of Sara Vila? Because I wanted to. I thought some of you may empathize and share a story to make me feel just a little bit better.


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Hey y'all I am Sara otherwise known as the Desperately Happy Housewife. When I am not working I am busy crafting, blogging and re-decorating my house. I channel Lucille Ball and Lauren Graham on a daily basis to get me through the "Oh my gosh I just sewed my finger" moments that often happen. I hope you stay a while and get a chance to see what makes me desperately happy.

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