I think fate is telling me something.

I'm determined to do some little project each week that makes a difference in our home. De. Term. Ined. Darn it.

But if I listen to what the universe is telling me, I'll curl up in a ball on my closet floor and only come out on those comfortable rainy days where the sky is grey and fuzzy and the tempreture isn't warm but it isn't cold either.

You suck, universe.

Sunday I thought I'd go out and buy a new garden hose and one of those nice hose reel boxes for the side of the house. Simple, yet it would make a big difference in how that area looked. We had a *bright* (ugly) blue hose that had more kinks in it than my hair, and the old reel had been removed from where it hung on the side of the house when it was resided back in April. We decided that because of the new siding, we'd get a box that sat on the ground rather than drill holes into said new siding.

Only I couldn't figure out how to take apart the "inner spool" of the box; the directions were vague and included those oh-so-helpful illustrations that are 1/2" x 1/2" square. Of course, they gave the same craptastic directions in 14 languages, but that didn't help me.

And it was one of those days where it was 87 degrees with 1000% humidity and my boys were crabby and Will decided he was going to eat chalk.

Yeah. It doesn't taste good, dummy.

So I abondoned that project and figured that my hubby could probably figure it out in two minutes and it wasn't worth another moment of my frustration. I quickly retreated back into my air conditioned house to lick my wounds and be proud that I made a nice dinner and gave my kids a bath before bed.

Then Monday rolls around, and I get this grand idea that I should try a different project. After working all day. When I have no idea whether or not my kids have napped. (Cuz I was too busy at work to call hubby and ask, since he's with them during the day.) When they might possibly be crabby for no apparent reason, nap or no.

I bought a deck box for all the toys that are usually left strewn about the yard. They really have no "home" and it stinks to drag them in and out of the garage every. single. day.

Its a big plastic box with a hinged lid - 4'x2'x2'.

Aaahhh...pretty, no?

The front of the box promised "Easy, 5-Minute, Tool-Free Assembly." They lie.

Twenty seconds into the project, I had all the pieces out of the box

when I hear Nick yell, loud enough for the neighbors' neighbors to hear:

"MO-O-O-O-OM! I HAVE TO GO POOP!!!"

Niiice. Thanks, hon.

Fast-forward 10 minutes and we're back outside. (And, no - he didn't poop.)

Again, I'm following directions with the teensiest tiniest pictures imaginable, accompanied by instructions in 15 languages. (This one included Farsi.)

I accidentally inserted the tabs from the bottom piece that were supposed to go into the right side into the left side instead. Only they fit. Perfectly. They clicked into place, even. But the tabs on the other side wouldn't fit into the right side. (You following me here? Basically I had to take it back apart and I'm glad my brother happened to be there or there would still be two plastic pieces stuck together at a right angle in my driveway. With a bullet hole in them.)

Actually, two of my brothers were there - one rents the upper flat from us, and the other we're paying to paint the front porch.

Yes, it takes a village. Of really tall big men to put together a deck box they advertise goes together in five minutes with no tools.

Finally, after another twenty minutes and *two* minor injuries, the box was put together.

Perfect for shipping off the kids when they're naughty.

HA! No, really, it looks great next to the back steps and its already full of all the toy guns, basketballs and tee ball sets that normally litter the backyard. Throwing stuff in there every night before we go in for the evening, that works for me.