The Buehler Buzz

{watch dumb and dumber do up their dwelling}

Month: February, 2011

Sometimes wonder what you should wear when you just need to clean and it’s the middle of winter?

I have the answer, courtesy of my darling mate for Valentine’s Day:

Because why wear sweats when you can have a onesie?

Stay jealous,


PS: It’s even embroidered with one of our favorite nicknames – 10 points if you know which lame-o one it is.

Ever ask yourself if you yell too much?

Saturday (began with re-painting the basement, remember?) Aaron got inspired to begin our closet project. The foyer closet has been a complete mess since we moved in. It’s one of those double sliding-door jobbies that has the one long hanging bar and shelf above it. (But it was cooler than yours because it was completely wall-papered in bark-like contact paper. Seriously. Even the ceiling. Also, it smelled like smoke. Mmmmmmm.) We’ve been talking about re-vamping it for about, um, since the day we moved in. We only keep about 5 coats in there, and with the coolest present I’ve ever received (also known as the Eames Hang-It-All) hanging in the foyer, we don’t need places for guest coats, just that season’s coats. You know what we do need, however? STORAGE. Because I’m a hoarder. (Really, don’t you think it’s weird that we can literally triple our living space and still have NO ROOM for anything? I don’t think we need to call the show until I start pooping in garbage bags and throwing them in my basement, however.)

So, Aaron starts designing the closet upgrades with a little help from Ana’s plans. (We think we’re cooler than Beiber these days thanks to Ana White’s building plans. I have to give away our master woodworking secret because we wouldn’t have ever thought to build anything ourselves if I hadn’t discovered her site. It’s super neato.) I come up from the basement, have a cup of coffee and talk over exactly what we want to do with the closet. We write down all the sizes for the shelves, the coat storage, the cubbies – you name it. It was settled. My understanding was that A would take himself off to the store, get the MDF, have it cut while there, and come home ready to assemble it all. And the whole project would take 2 hours. (HAHAHAHAHA I’m just bold-faced lying right there. I was guessing 5 days at our rates. We’re S L O W.)

He comes back with the wood all right… in four huge sheets of uncut MDF. In a rented Chester-the-molester van. Which I didn’t realize until all of a sudden the garage door flings open and my darling husband yells in his loudest and most exasperated voice, “Lizzie, I need some fucking HELP already!” Being the accommodating wife I am, I of course respond by yelling back, “What’s your problem, asshat?! Stop yelling at me!” (Yes, we swear. Sometimes so much that my grandma has to tell my mother-in-law that I’m scary. True story.) I go out to the garage to see why my very strong mate would need help with pre-cut shelves, and realize they are not pre-cut at all. Which is when my truth-yelling kicks in.

I’m 5’3” and have a bum left arm. This means I’m complete crap at carrying heavy objects, which include huge sheets of MDF. And when I’m uncomfortable, I tell you. A lot. In a loud voice. And I’m probably calling you stupid, too. Which is exactly how the next 10 minutes of unloading those sheets of MDF played out. Aaron had realized at the store that he needed to do more exact measurements before cutting all the shelves, and didn’t want to waste money by cutting them only to have them be wrong. Which really was the right thing to do… but didn’t occur to me while I was trying to hold up half a sheet of MDF and it was banging against my shin and my left arm was dropping the weight and it was freezing and I didn’t have a coat on and I kept tripping over our week-old newspapers that we can’t be bothered to bring into the house.

But you know what’s awesome? As soon as we had those sheets in the garage and I turned to Aaron to say, “Sorry for the yelling, I love you honey, let me know when you need help with anything, OK?” you know what he does? Gives me a quick kiss and just says, “OK, babes, thanks for helping me!”.

Some people are just too nice. And I’m really glad my mate is one of them.

Pictures of the finished closet to come, but here’s our almost-completed masterpiece:


So, this happened:

After sitting on our tucas’ for quite some time, (at least in regards to “house projects”, better known as “that huge list I once wrote down and was so horrified once I got to number 157 that I had to stop recording and haven’t been able to look at it since without a gallon of Beefeaters at my disposal”) I bounded out of bed on Saturday morning and decided this was the day to tackle the basement!

Yes, the basement. You know, that one of four rooms we’ve actually already painted? Supposedly to satisfaction? That took a week of my parents time, sweat, and possibly ruined some of their joints for life? Remember that?  It looked like this:

Well… I hate the white. I admit it. What was I thinking?! Seriously, I’m not an expert in anything house related (besides being born with awesomely fantastic taste, of course) and even I know that you don’t paint spaces all white unless they get lots of natural light. Guess how much natural light most of our basement gets? Duh, zero – it’s a basement. (Built in 1947, before walkouts were the norm.)

By the time Aaron arose, I was already deep into my striped experiment. Oh yeah, it failed horribly. See, the basement is all paneling, and I just KNEW it would be sweet boobs to paint every other panel the gray that’s on our first floor, and leave the remaining panels white. Um – I was totally wrong. My cutting-edge stripes looked like the inside of a circus tent that you’d take to a psych ward (because it still looks circusy, but it’s a bit calmer than red since you used a gray that turned khaki once you removed the natural light that usually hits it upstairs). So then I moved on to painting every panel gray, and leaving the inserts between each panel white. Still horrible, seriously. (See above picture for reminder.) Because the boards are rough, which means the edges are rough, which means it ends up looking like I painted wavy lines of white on my walls after a night of heavy drinking (which caused my hand to shake so much that I ended up with wavy lines, see how I walked you through that thought process?).

So there we have it – the first official TOTAL FAILURE of the new house. Hey, it had to happen sooner or later, right?  We’re now brainstorming ideas for getting some brighter color down there, but I really think I need to focus on the rest of the fabrics, etc first.  We still have barstools to redo, seat cusions to redo, couch pillows to add, art to hang, a bar cart to organize, etc.

In other news, we totally amped up our front hallway closet and did some serious work on the boiler room, too, so not a total waste!  Check out this quick fix in the boiler room:

From this disgusting trim and switch when you open the door to the boiler room:

(Yeah, I had already started cleaning it before I remembered to take pictures.  It was even more disgusting than this to begin with.)

To this beauty!

Not bad for two minutes and a Magic Eraser, eh?  Oh, sweet sweet chemicals, how I love when you work your magic on me.

Want to see the bad wall again? Haha – this will probably be the only time I admit to such wrong-doing and open myself up for ridicule, so please – enjoy!