Last year about this time, Mark’s parents came to visit from Michigan.
Among the items on the thrill-packed itinerary was a visit to the staple store.
Really . . . a whole store that sells nothing but staples and fasteners and nails and screws.
Fun, right? Located right here in Lake Oswego!
Mark’s dad was all happy. He needed staples for his boat, and he couldn’t believe his good fortune! Here, in the middle of nowhere, were the dreamed-of staples!
I will not give a full mockdown of the time we spent at the staple store.
Suffice it to say that we were there for a very long time.
And that Mark’s dad is basically Mark.
If “basically” means “exactly.”
Mark’s dad gave us a box of galvanized marine staples as a gift.
Hmmmm.
So this box of galvanized marine staples sat in our garage for the past year.
No opportunity for their use arose.
But now we have a boat! A boat that needs work! A boat that needs . . . staples!
Triumph! Here are the staples we need! How fucking awesome is that? Mark gave me a whole speech about how excellent it was that he had saved these staples because you couldn’t use just any old staples on a boat and these were special expensive staples.
Whatever.
OK, so here’s where I come in . . .
I have purchased a huge sheet of marine-grade plywood that Mark has cut into a variety of boat-needed shapes. I have purchased two yards of marine-grade vinyl with which to cover these plywood shapes. I have purchased spray adhesive of the industrial sort. I have scissors. I have a wooden rolling tool with which to smash the vinyl smooth. I have a stapler and a box of expensive father-in-law staples.
I am ready to upholster!
I cut out the proper vinyl shapes.
I head into the garage to spray adhesive. The can says to spray the back of the vinyl and the back of the wood and wait for the glue to get tacky before bringing the two surfaces together.
Then wrap the edges and staple them down. Ta-dah! Upholstered!
Easy peasy!
Problem #1: Mark cut the plywood shapes in the garage and so now there is plywood dust everywhere. It seems unwise to use spray adhesive in a room full of dust, so I break out the shop-vac.
I lay out the vinyl and plywood pieces on the garage floor.
Mark eyes me sadly, “You are planning on covering the floor, right? That glue is going to get everywhere.”
I promise to be careful, but Mark just keeps saying “overspray” and shaking his head.
Problem #2: Hunt down and then spread out huge sheets of filmy plastic sheeting left over from when we painted.
I lay out the vinyl and plywood on the plastic sheets on the garage floor.
I spray the adhesive, which is way fun to spray because it comes out in Spider Man threads and loops. I spray enthusiastically.
I test for tackiness after a few minutes.
Yay!
I lift up a piece of vinyl to lay onto its corresponding wood.
Problem #3: It is impossible to position the vinyl properly on the wood because the vinyl is bigger than the wood and I cannot see what I am doing as I lower the vinyl. Additionally, the vinyl is drapey and listless and uncooperative and not at all inclined to behave.
I toss the vinyl crankily back down on the plastic sheeting.
Problem #4: The vinyl flips and super-bonds itself to the plastic sheeting.
I frantically rip the plastic free of the vinyl.
Problem #5: The plastic I am ripping free of the vinyl is beneath all of the other pieces of wood and vinyl, and as it shifts, the overspray (damn Mark for always being correct) catches the edges of the wood and vinyl pieces and super-bonds the plastic sheeting to them as well.
I rip the plastic free of everything and set the assorted cutouts of vinyl and wood on the garage floor (there is no more adhesive spraying, so it will be fine).
Problem #6: Every bit of plastic sheeting is now off the floor and stuck to me. It is wrapped around my head and my body and it is INSANE. I try to get it off of me, but my hands are covered in adhesive, and my every move makes it worse.
I rip myself an air hole through which to breathe. I work an edge of the plastic down below my right foot and then slowly peel and unwrap myself.
Problem #7: Mark is going to be annoyed if he thinks I did not protect the garage floor, and I am not inclined to explain how I was attacked and almost suffocated by plastic sheeting.
I cut a new giant piece of plastic sheeting and shake it over the garage floor.
Problem #8: I fail to realize that I am lowering this huge sheet of plastic onto the tackified vinyl and wood.
I scream and curse and rip this second sheet of plastic free of the stickiness.
Fuck the plastic sheeting.
I sit on the garage floor and carefully pick up the wooden pieces and press them down onto their vinyl partners.
I turn each covered piece over and use my special rolling tool to press the vinyl flat.
Problem #9: All of this fighting with plastic sheeting means that some of the adhesive has passed from tacky to dry. Bubbles are running rampant and the surfaces are not smooth.
Fuck this special rolling tool.
I will just pull the vinyl super-tight as I staple.
I get the stapler and the special galvanized staples.
Problem #10: The special galvanized marine staples do not fit in any of the staplers Mark has in the garage.
I am tempted to just duct-tape the motherfuckers and be done with it, but I call Mark into the garage and explain the problem.
He listens as he takes in my filthy sticky clothing and hands and hair.
He points to the two garbled up masses of plastic sheeting and laughs, “Have a little problem with the glue, did you?”
Annoying.
Mark heads out to buy some staples that will fit into the staple gun.
Problem #11: I don’t want to do this job anymore. It was supposed to be easy peasy and I have fucked it up and now the fucking staples don’t even work. The bubbles settle in and mock me.
Goddamn Mark’s father . . . this is all his fault.
I make myself a cup of coffee and eat a handful of cold cereal.
I search through the CDs and choose Nine Inch Nails.
I wonder if that staple store sells nine inch nails?
I play the song Hurt, because that is an excellent feeling sorry for yourself song.
Then I have to find the Johnny Cash version.
Mark arrives home to find me slightly weepy.
Ahem.
He hands me a package that does not look like staples.
He chose instead to buy a whole new fucking staple gun that will fit the galvanized marine staples.
I stare at him.
Empire of dirt, indeed.
Problem #12: I am married to a younger version of my father-in-law.
Annoying.
Problem #13: Mark stands over me in the garage and micromanages every fold and tuck and stapling of the vinyl to the wood.
ANNOYING.
Problem #14: This new staple gun has a safety feature that prevents me from firing a few staples in Mark’s direction.
Ahem.
Problem #15: Some of the staples do not fully insert themselves into the wood.
I hammer them down with a few well-aimed blows.
Problem #16: One not so well-aimed blow.
Johnny Cash’s voice . . .
I hurt myself today
to see if I still feel
I focus on the pain
the only thing that’s real
Motherfucking ow.
