Yes. I went there. I titled a blog post with an idiomatic phrase misspelling that drives me straight up the wall.
I'm annoyed enough as it is, so I might as well take it all the way.
In the previous seasons, you may have remembered that we found the old wood shutters for the house in the garage attic, scrubbed the wasp nests and bird poop off them, tightened them up a bit, sanded and painted them. While I didn't get them hung, I was loving the way they looked.
This year I got them out of their storage spot on the screen porch, ready to finally hang them, and get to work on another pair. But while I was at work for the week and before I could get the hardware to properly hang them, this happened.
I know. As the youngsters today say: I cannot even.
The exposure to a week's worth of sun, wind, and variables of moisture did this to the shutters. So obviously they weren't as tight as I thought. And all that time I spent cleaning them up? Poof. I try not to think about that part, or I swear a lot. A lot.
At this point I'm too emotionally fragile for ill-timed advice, so I have generously composed a list to choose from:
1. Here, have a glass of wine.
2. You look like you need a nap.
4. Who needs shutters anyway?
5. Here, have a glass of wine.
If there are clamps out there, or some neat trick, or oh, they're so worth the work to save those cool old shutters, I don't want to know, please, because right now it will be "blah-blah-blah-blah-blah-blah can't hear you."
I will apply rational thought later. Right now I'll be working on 1-5.