Got home and Kayloo had ripped her cushion into six billion pieces. Have you ever seen six billion microscopic pieces of something? Let me tell you what six billion pieces looks like: it looks like a pain in the ass.
As mentioned, I am frugal. Thrifty if you will. So rather than buy another cushion I decided- in my infinite wisdom- to fix it myself. And this decision cost me roughly 5 hours of my life. 5 HOURS that I will never get back. The vast majority of my Sunday was spent cutting up old shirts, darning (I don’t own a sewing machine, which is weird because I should have known that once I hit 30 I WAS GOING TO SEW MORE THAN I EVER HAD IN MY ENTIRE LIFE), hunching over a smelly dog cushion and stabbing myself in the finger over and over again.
What is an hour worth to you? $10? $20? $50 maybe? Based on this logic and a little math, Kayloo is now the proud owner of a cushion that is covered in blood, looks like crap and is now worth somewhere between $50 and $250 in labour alone.
Above is a picture of the dogs helping me. I MAY have put the rest of the cut up old shirt on Kayloo and laughed at her out of spite.
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