Jen vs. The China Cabinet

The year was two thousand and eleven. It was a hot September morning when the battle began. I proceeded to the armory (Home Depot) and armed myself with a variety of weapons from chemicals to paint, woodglue to suffocating plastic, guns to the roughest of sandpaper (okay I realize that 220 isn’t that rough but for the sake of the story, just go with it okay?)

 I knew this was going to be a doozy of a battle and realized I might get wounded. However, I knew it would be worth it and that in the end….VICTORY would be mine!

I hate to admit that I am the one who threw the first punch but my opponent just stood there, shivering in its boots. Someone had to start the fight. I grabbed my 220 and hit the ground running. I sanded the finish right off its horrified face. As if that wasn’t enough, I took my TSP water and wiped it down, inflicting more pain. I sanded again, and again, and again, until I knew for sure it had reached its weakest point. I did one final wipe down and then proceeded to get my gun.  I filled the gun with its bright white primer ammo and fired the first shot. “Sput, sput, sput” whimpered the gun; it had no intentions of getting in the middle of THIS fight. I wrestled and wrestled until finally I had to take my gun back to the armory for a professional to fix. You wouldn’t believe how many trips to the armory were made during this battle. I decided it was best to enlist the help of a veteran (my awesome dad); one that had much knowledge and could provide a second point of view. He was willing to serve for a good cause and joined my side right away. We continued to wrestle with the gun until it finally gave in and started to work with us. I again filled it with ammo and fired a shot (while crossing my fingers). Out came the most beautiful shot of white primer you ever saw. The adrenalin kicked in and I was on a roll! I couldn’t stop, I kept firing; coat after coat until my opponent was covered in primer, not a glimpse of icky brown wood in site. 

I decided to rest for a bit after kicking behind in the first battle. I was wounded and needed to bandage myself up before beginning the second round. 

I pumped myself up and went back to the battle ground (the carport). This time I loaded my gun with the brightest of white paint. I pulled the trigger…sput, sput, sput. SERIOUSLY?!? I thought. I ran back to my bunker to figure out a game plan. I saw no other solution than to make yet another trip back to the armory. I knew I had to hurry; my offense was weakening and my opponent’s defenses were strengthening. I ran (drove) back to the armory to have my weapon fixed once again and was back in no time. I loaded up and ran in to battle, arms swinging. I covered that thing like nothing anyone has ever seen before. It was a beautiful and horrific site, depending on which side you were on.

 I must give credit where credit is due. My opponent did put up quite the fight. It tried it’s hardest to show its disgusting brown blood through my beautiful white paint. It had its annoying crevices, inconvenient corners, and its rough exterior which refused to sand smooth; but in the end, it was no match for my soldier and I. We pushed through and soon, the second battle had been won.

The third and final battle went quickly. We had already kicked our opponent’s defenses to the curb. We armed ourselves with cans of clear coat and went to town, unleashing the final weapon of battle. We sprayed until we could see our war painted faces in our opponent’s eyes.

After the final resting period, it was time to take my opponent by the head and mount it on my wall (or just move it into position). We hoisted its heavy body onto our shoulders and made the long journey (maybe 20 steps?) home.

We stood there, in awe of the war we had just fought. It was over, we were VICTORIOUS! The once ugly china cabinet had been stripped and beaten down to its very core and had been given a new life. 

I knew that it would take time before my opponent came around but it eventually realized that it had a very important purpose and I am happy to report that we are now the best of friends. I’d even like to think that it regrets putting up such a fight. It has grown into its new skin and adjusted to the new home very well and I could not be more proud. 

I am stronger because of this war, I AM a survivor! I am fearless now and await the opportunity to pummel my next opponent to the ground. 

-Jen

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