You Can't be Good at Everything Right?

I've learned a terrible lesson this past week. One that would make do-it yourself-ers everywhere gasp in horror. However, I will now consider it to be one of my Secrets of Adulthood. The rule is as follows: "Why do it yourself when you can pay someone else to do it." I realize that this rule may seem frivalous to many but I believe the tales of my week may make you see things my way.

Story One:  When I first started my blog, I posted two pictures of posters I wanted that were sold out on IVillage. Somehow my Fairy Godmother heard my wish, and my friend Jennine had BOTH of the posters I wanted, and she sold them to me happily. Jennine is an old friend from my horseback riding days, and not only did she grant my wish and provide me with these posters, she also helped me get my new amazing apartment, in the building she lives in. She's a doll.

Back to the story. So I had these awesome posters, that needed to be framed, so instead of paying a professional to do it, I decide to take it on myself. I bought black frames at Walmart, and some spray paint and started to paint them white. Now this all would have been fine, if the stupid posters let you remove the plexiglass, but no dice, it was attached to the frame. So now, because I'm awesome at spray painting the plexiglass is now dotted with white. And I will have to take the posters in to get professionally framed anyways, as they are printed on the white matting crooked.

Moral Of The Story : Pay a professional Mila. You suck at DIY.

Story Two: Now I wish I could tell you that I learned my lesson and when it came down to moving all my stuff to Vancouver, I hired movers, or at the very least rented a truck, but no. Instead I enlisted my dad, and he borrowed his friends pick up to schlep everything down the Sea to Sky.

All fine and dandy, until the weather pulled a Whistler on us and snowed and rained on the moving day. Armed with tarps, we figured we were well prepared. That is until all the tarps blew off on the windiest corner of the Cheakamus Canyon. After 45 minutes in the freezing snow and wind we had them tied back on. Sort of.

We then decided that it would be best to stop in Squamish at Home Depot to cover the mattresses in plastic sheeting, and move the boxes into the cab of the truck as it was apparently pouring rain in Vancouver.

Bare in mind that it has now taken us 2 hours to get from Whistler to Squamish. So we did this, re-organized the truck bed, and took off. Stopping for a celebratory Mcdonalds french fry run ( This was especially special, as my dad never even let us have Mcdonalds as a kid, and he was the one who suggested it!)

After Mcdicks, we flew through Squamish, laughing at the hitchhikers, and munching on fries, until we got to Shannon Falls, where we realized....we no longer had a mattress.

3 trips between Mickey D's and Shannon Falls later, and we STILL had not located the missing mattress. So my dad pulls over to start calling mattress stores to buy a new one, and I get out to lean over the barrier, where low and behold a black plastic sail seems to be billowing off the edge of a cliff.

 Mattress or dead body right? Mattress it was!

We left Whistler at 11:30 am that day and arrived in Vancouver at 6 pm. However, we did stop at Chances on the way home to complete our hillbilly road trip, and broke even, which everyone knows counts as a win :)

Moral Of The Story: Pay a professional. The time and frustration you save, is worth the money you don't!