Dog Snot Diaries

I write, you whine….

Wednesday, September 13, 2006

Building a Sandpit

I took a few days off from work to complete some projects at the Gordon Estate. The one I looked forward to most was building a sandpit for my sons. Not just an ordinary sandpit like you see at Walmart in the plastic turtle, but a 200 square foot enclosure flanked by cedar and rigged for some exteme Tonka action.

I spent an entire day reinventing the wheel as I engineered and built my kid’s sandpit. Throughout the trials and tribulations of building the eighth wonder of the world, what I looked forward to the most was my trip to Lowes to load my old pick-up with the play sand. The finishing touch.

This morning, coffee in hand, I set off to accomplish the feat. A ton and a half of play sand later, I chugged down the road riding the frame like that old jollopi on the film Grapes of Wrath. Once home, I used my wheelbarrow to shuttle the hundred pound bags to the sandpit. I can’t tell you how excited I was to witness the dream become reality.

I wasn’t even finished dumping all the bags in before my kids were ankle deep with their Tonkas having a blast. As I dumped the second to last bag in the pit, my wife picked up the empty liner and paused. Something on the bag had caught her eye.


She cautiosly brought this too my attention. I read the fine print. Apparently this “play sand” had some fucking fine dust of nitrate something the fuck ever in it that could lead to lung and nerve damage to people, particuarly children, if not handled properly or if it comes in contact with the skin.

Those fucking idiots at Lowes gave me the wrong order of sand. What pisses me off the most was that I never noticed. I always double check other people’s work. Except today, of course.

The realization that I had just purchased, loaded, hauled, then unloaded a ton and a half of sand for nothing struck me like thunder. It wasn’t the cost or effort that got to me the most, it was knowing that not only did I have to do it all again – but now I had to dig up and dispose of the original ton and a half of sand. God Dammit!

Dumbfounded, all I could think of to say was – “What a kick to the nuts……”

The family’s reaction was priceless. My oldest boy gleefully leapt around chanting “Daddy got kicked in the nuts” – over and over and the youngest just giggled. My wife squirmed in sympathy while my dad just looked at me and laughed.

I didn’t find it funny whatsoever then, but I do now. I just got up, went to the garage and had a can of Schmidt. I’ll deal with it tommorow.

posted by Gordon at 12:50 am  


  1. That is sooo screwed up because I’m sure while making this purchase at some point you mentioned your 2 KIDS at home who would be rolling around in this sand….

    Comment by Sandy — September 13, 2006 @ 1:28 am

  2. Your dad was there?


    Comment by Geoffrey — September 13, 2006 @ 7:04 am

  3. Having been there myself, I certainly sympathize with you.

    Comment by Hondo — September 13, 2006 @ 1:50 pm

  4. Ouch. What a drag.

    Comment by Libby — September 17, 2006 @ 1:33 pm

RSS feed for comments on this post. TrackBack URI

Leave a comment

Powered by WordPress