mrpeenee’s Home Repair


Oh, my little popettes, one of the folding doors on our linen closet came off its track. Putting it back is no big deal, it is, in fact, one of the household accomplishments I am capable of. But this one resisted my best efforts. I did everything right, in the right order, in the wrong order, in no order and it still wouldn’t fit back in. Finally I resorted to my favorite technique: shrieking like a little girl and smacking it with my fist. Turns out I’m gay. So now we not only have a door off its track we have a busted door off its track. Life is so hard.

About mrpeenee

A former bon vivant and terror of a number of New Orleans bars in the mad, gay 1980s, I'm now quietly retired and widowed in San Francisco. I have a crooked nose due to an unfortunate Frisbee accident.

17 responses »

  1. So my hubby is an engineer & I'm a housewife. By the time he gets home from work in Palo Alto, I'm so made I've smashed the disloyal piece of apparatus (see, the thing is is, malfunctions are personal), so it's even harder to fix.


  2. I am the fixer/builder in my house. A screw driver( or perhaps in my case, a shrew driver) would have pushed that mother back into place. If that fails, a .9mm works fabulously.


  3. Things like that can really push a person over the edge. I find myself swearing at inanimate objects, like today, when my Russell Hobbs spat out brown juice all over my white 'Fortuny' bed linen, I could have shrieked then, but instead, I called it a “Cheap fucking minge” and lobbed it in the bin, yes, whilst it was still hot, which then began to melt and stick to the black bin liner inside and now I'm without an iron.


  4. A hahahaha! This keeps happening to my closet door too and the fact that it keeps getting repaired and then breaking again is the bane of my poor hubby's existence. We are going to Ikea for sliding fabric panels instead, the closet, for now, has won.


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