I have now spent more time in my laundry room in the past six days than I have in 10 years. So has John. We have, in fact very probably spent more time in that laundry room in six days than it took our 12 pack a day builder to build it. I have definitely spent more time in the closet in the past six days than in the past 10 years. It was dark and it was scary and if there had been any other place in the house to keep a 25lb bag of dachshund kibble I wouldn’t have opened those doors at all. I had to move all of my newly purged and organized stuff back out of the laundry room, which meant it landed once again on my newly cleaned and pristine kitchen. Each time I have to shuffle stuff out of there I end up purging more simply because I don’t want to have to move it back. “Do I really need bleach?” “Do I really need floor cleaner? Not like anything works on it anyway. I’m pitching it.” The dachshunds did step in and prevent me from tossing that 25 lb bag of kibble but I’m still wondering if I really need to drink water because gawd am I tired of lugging THAT stuff from one room to the other.
Once all the stuff was shuffled out of the way, I measured the floor space in the closet, height of the kibble bag container, height of two stacked cases of water, and the height of my tallest appliance in order to arrive at the size table we needed. One thing that irks me about 2 x 4s is that they’re not really 2 x 4. They’re 3.5 x 1.5. Only guys would think this is reasonable. Me, I’m thinking if I’m paying for that width and depth I should damned well get that width and depth. So, when I’m measuring how deep this table needs to be for maximum storage in the space available, I have to take this .5 for each board into account. This is not as much of a problem as it once was because I have actually learned to take that .5 into account. But it’d be a heck of a lot easier if I didn’t have to. The only possible explanation for the discrepancy is that most guys are just used to adding at least half an inch to their actual measurements, unless they’re talking waistline.
While the dachshunds and I shuffled stuff out of the way and I planned out the length, depth and height of the table, listed the cuts (the doxies are no good with measurements) and the assembly instructions, John was busily taking apart the day bed we’d built. He even managed to salvage all the screws. He was able to start the cuts immediately while I handled the painting.
John built the frame for the table using pocket holes. Because we wanted to maximize the storage space of the table top we pretty much knew the table couldn’t be moved in once it was completed. The frame would easily fit but there would be too much overhang on each end. I’m not planning to move this table out. It’s there for the duration of my life. So John added the top boards once the frame was in place in the closet.
Once the table was built, I painted it and shuffled the stuff back from the kitchen to the closet shelves, with more than one “Oh God don’t let this kill me” as I lugged cases of bottled water.
Please notice that the bleach and the crate of floor cleaners has mysteriously vanished. The bleach is in the garage should I ever decide to tie-dye a massive drop cloth again. The floor cleaners are hopefully busy killing some weeds along the horse fence.
The table looks so nice in there I hate to cover it up with my small appliances. Perhaps one day I’ll be able to get them in the pantry and can use the table for something really cool like folding clothes before they leave the laundry room so they don’t end up in a mountain on the foot of my bed.
Now I just need to figure out workable shelves that I can reach over the washer and dryer, paint the rest of the laundry room, repair the scratches in the exterior door from that sliding door incident, and come up with a landing strip of some sort so I can stop losing my keys.