For all of you do-it-yourselfers out there, hear me, and hear me well.
Ok, I add to that. For all of you very, very cheap do-it-yourselfers out there, hear me, and, well, etc.
Always, always, always make sure that amidst your wonderous cheapness (some call it frugality, we cheapsters know better) you take into account all aspects of doing it the cut and slash way. Mind you, I’m speaking from the addict’s chair. I’m not kidding when I say I’ve had friends who have said in a pleading tone, “Heather, please just go BUY something. Just this once. It’s okay if you haven’t made it yourself. HONESTLY!” And I look back at them through shaded, slightly suspicious eyes, mentally trying to gauge their loyalty.
The past year or so I have had an inordinate fascination with a particular store in our town in which all items, and I mean ALL, are $1. Yeah, I can hear all you purists either sighing, gasping, or groaning. But I’m not a purist. I would proudly consider myself to be a bit of sneak. There is nothing I love more than buying something at the *ahem* store and having nobody come close to guessing where I got it, or whether I made it myself. Obviously there are some things that I won’t buy there. Namely, hair items, most kitchen utensils (they are clearly flimsy *wink*), and the gumballs in the little machines up front. Everything else is fair game. Well, almost anything. I have been looking to replace my laundry-room flooring for awhile. I don’t want to spend much money on it because I have a hard time believing it will be there for any length of time anyway. This store was selling these self-stick linoleum tiles 3 for $1. My little Scroogy heart melted. I bought a few that I thought I might like, took them home, laid them out for a dress rehearsal, looked at them, and looked at them, and looked at them. I didn’t buy a whole floor’s worth because I didn’t know if I wanted them or not. Finally, about a month after my first encounter, I committed. I know. Very big step. Anyway, I went back to the store, bought them out, came home, and started laying tile knowing I was going to be a few short. That’s okay, I thought. They said they would have a new shipment of those tiles coming in soon anyway. I’ll get these down, go back in a few days, get the tiles for the rest of the project. I went back. Nothing. Went back again. Nothing again. I went back a third time, and pursued the subject with the clerk on the floor until it came out that there was no guarantee they would be getting any more of those particular tiles. I got proactive. I got on the phone with other stores in that chain. All the same answer. Sorry, we’re out of those tiles. I sat at my desk sweating, fuming, and generally feeling stupid. Thankfully, my husband is a sweetheart. He just looked at me. Smiled a bit and said it was absolutely ‘ok’. I told him it wasn’t ’ok’, but I appreciated his thought and then added with an intense whisper, “But, Tim, this means we are going to have to SPEND MONEY! Like REAL money! Not THRIFT SHOP money! REAL MONEY!!!” His patient smile went a long way in calming my little white-elephant heart and I sludged, if not skipped, off to Menards, the home of the Real Money Rangers to spend, spend, spend. The new tiles I bought were 20 cents more per tile than the others I bought. I felt like a movie star. Wowsers. The only thing I could think is, This is what it must feel like to own the whole world. Breathe, Heather, just breathe. I could get used to this. So all of this to say is I’ve made a much-needed break with the Former Store and am now firmly ensconced in a stable relationship with the bigger, better, movie-star store, Menards.
Sigh. I’m so in love.
Now you have me aching to see the new floor! How ’bout a photo?!