In Which My Day Is Loud And Fragrant

Infested now, my neighborhood, with such

Variety of workmen as I find

Impossible to name them all, has much

In common with disaster zones. I wind

Around its streets and cul-de-sacs aboard

Deep Blue and see some roofers, yes, and by

My "circle's" deepest curve, not just a hoard

Of all-but-shirtless men, but also -- fie! --

A reeking porta-potty twixt a pile

Of sand and some huge trucks. The din's profound.

It's gypsy contract season. With a smile

And promise of low pricing all around,

They've sucked in all my neighbors, it would seem.

How long will their work last, though, do you deem?

In Which A Home Improvement Hoedown Needs Some Light

A home improvement hoedown I have had,

New pickets on the back fence, and, inside,

Built-in bookshelves for one room (I'm so glad;

'Tis one dream I've long cherished). Still undried

The shelves themselves drip on sawhorses, so

It being Mother's day times two real soon

(This month's her birthday, too), off we did go,

To Office Max. We found one made her swoon

And also, there, a lamp I've fancied. As

I hate to shop, it pleased me, then, to make

Both purchases (efficiency, it has

The pow'r to move me strangely). We did take

The lamp home to my house, only to find

No bulb within. The store clerks, though, were kind.

In Which Sleep Is Proven A Questing Beast And I No Pellinore

Requirements of the service, lo, have bid

That Tuesdays I work nights in this month. Lo:

I bow my head to this, but flip my lid

At what else this foul day has wrought, and so

Sit up when I should still be fast asleep.

My house's new roof had some flaws, and rain

Was coming through the ceiling. It would keep

On doing so till fixed. My quest became

To get this repair done ere winter's snows.

Success, at last, is mine, but why today?

Just as a pleasant dream ramped up, here shows

Up all the crew with power tools and, hey,

With noise and strangers fill my afternoon

And morning, too. Quick, hand me the harpoon.

In Which I Gloat Over A Well-Earned Beer

Someone's idea of heaven surely is

Hot chicks with power tools. He'd love today,

When Kris and I were same. To ruin his

Imaginings a bit, a cop held sway

O'er these proceedings; that would be our Dad,

Armed with a hammer, prybar and a scowl

I'd never want turned my way. Yes we've had

Us quite a time. Now I've thrown in the towel

For one day. I must say it ain't half bad,

This deck we built for Krissy, and we've earned

The Bud Light we are gulping on it now,

Exhausted, bleeding slightly and sunburned.

Our next item of bus'ness is some chow,

We'll grill up on my sister's brand-new grill.

Some dead cow and grilled corn, oh yes we will!

Hardware Wars: Or The Most Famous Stripped Bolt In History

I couldn't help but picture, just today,
My own dear Dad and what he would have done
Had he encountered the sort of delay
Mikes Massimo and Good did, namely one
Stripped, stubborn bolt that held a rail in place
That blocked up Hubble's STIS door.
Massimo tried three tools, then, though in space,
Employed my Dad's best strategy: no more
Nor less than yanking the rail off. And yet,
With thousands tuned in, including the boss
The verbal aspect was subdued I'll bet.
No air to turn blue anyway. The loss
Of time compounded more so when
A power tool lost power. There I've been.

Painting The Well House Red

My new house has an outbuilding of sorts,

A purely ornamental one, that is.

My father's on a visit and resorts

To home improvement projects here for his

Amusement since I still do not subscribe

To satellite or to cable TV.

To these two facts one eas'ly may ascribe

Our pastime for the day, which chanced to be

To paint the fake well house that's on my lawn!

I've often wondered as I look at it

What was the thought process that chanced to spawn

The thing. "What this yard needs to be legit

Is a fake well house right there, in the grass,

So mowing round it's a pain in the ass."

By All Means Read The Fine Manual - But Make Sure It's The Right Fine Manual

In retrospect, I really should have known
When, though I tried, I simply could not make
The drawings that the manual had shown
Match up to my real furnace. My mistake
Compounded as I trusted, yes, by gosh
The booklet's claims about the filter set
As ones that simply need a wipe and wash,
And no replacing. How dumb could I get?
Fast forward one more day and Mother said,
It's really cold in here, is something wrong?
I went to work; meanwhile, with bowing head
My Dad and Realtor hunched back down along
The crawlspace, and the Realtor showed us where
The filters go and are. A quick repair!