kelseymybelle
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- Joined
- May 18, 2019
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Part I: Adventure Calls
I’ll preface this by telling you what I told my husband: At least I decided against the crocodile skinks.
And in my defense, you WERE out of town and therefore unable to stop me.
Although I’ll admit it was perhaps not the most well-thought-out plan, FREE was altogether too good of a deal to pass up. And consider the fortuitous circumstances: A 30 gallon tank popped up on a Curb Alert in my “general area;” 36” happened to fit my lonely tank stand perfectly; it was a beautiful day; you and our toddler were up North at the cabin—and to cap it all, I was emboldened by the Youtube playlist of “how to de-rim an aquarium” videos that had been autoplaying as I compulsively researched gate valves and comparison-shopped colored PVC pipe.
Here it was: My opportunity to prove to you, my skeptical husband, that I could ABSOLUTELY scavenge together a beautiful, modern, sleek-looking nano reef tank for my home office.
Yes, I realize you explicitly told me not to buy another tank. Yes, I know you’ve just left your job to become a stay-at-home dad to our 13 month old son, and that now the burden of financially providing for our family falls on my shoulders. Yes, I am keenly aware that my company works primarily with startups on a per-contract basis. But you must understand—I was going to spend no money on this ludicrous adventure. This was A Free Tank.
So I messaged the Curb Alerter to find out his address, to see whether I could even feasibly get to what had immediately become—in my mind—my new aquarium. After all, you were hundreds of miles away with the toddler and the truck. And oh, what luck—the tank was curbed a mere two miles away, in a neighborhood I’ve driven through many times. It was destiny.
All that remained was to get there. Simple. Were I one of those totally-got-my-****-together moms who, thirteen months postpartum, had resumed their daily jogs and yerba mates with Gal Pals in yoga pants, that two mile walk would have been a piece of gluten-free cake. I’m confident enough in myself to share that I, however, am testing the tensile strength of my sweatpants as I type this.
Undaunted, I unfolded my son’s stroller and flopped a couple of towels into the seat (I had A Plan). I put on my very best sneakers and my least stained sweatpants. I even put on a sports bra. And off I sauntered down the street, pushing an empty stroller and secure in my knowledge that this was a voyage I was meant to take, that this was a tank I was meant to have, and that you would be charmed by just how quirky and impulsive—and thrifty!—your wife can be.
Three hours later I returned home, delighted with myself and my new tank. This was going to look SO cool as a nano reef. We even have a tank in the basement to use as a sump, and another to cannibalize for baffles and bracing for the display—because seriously, that pale faux wood grain trim has to go.
Horrifying trim aside, it looks pretty good. And when it’s sitting on the stand, I can take off my glasses and imagine the final setup, with suspended lights and beautiful plumbing and a thriving garden of soft corals. It will be just the thing to kickstart productivity during my workday and will make me seem like a Very Interesting Individual during video calls with clients.
This is a good idea, Kelsey. Good job today.
I’ll preface this by telling you what I told my husband: At least I decided against the crocodile skinks.
And in my defense, you WERE out of town and therefore unable to stop me.
Although I’ll admit it was perhaps not the most well-thought-out plan, FREE was altogether too good of a deal to pass up. And consider the fortuitous circumstances: A 30 gallon tank popped up on a Curb Alert in my “general area;” 36” happened to fit my lonely tank stand perfectly; it was a beautiful day; you and our toddler were up North at the cabin—and to cap it all, I was emboldened by the Youtube playlist of “how to de-rim an aquarium” videos that had been autoplaying as I compulsively researched gate valves and comparison-shopped colored PVC pipe.
Here it was: My opportunity to prove to you, my skeptical husband, that I could ABSOLUTELY scavenge together a beautiful, modern, sleek-looking nano reef tank for my home office.
Yes, I realize you explicitly told me not to buy another tank. Yes, I know you’ve just left your job to become a stay-at-home dad to our 13 month old son, and that now the burden of financially providing for our family falls on my shoulders. Yes, I am keenly aware that my company works primarily with startups on a per-contract basis. But you must understand—I was going to spend no money on this ludicrous adventure. This was A Free Tank.
So I messaged the Curb Alerter to find out his address, to see whether I could even feasibly get to what had immediately become—in my mind—my new aquarium. After all, you were hundreds of miles away with the toddler and the truck. And oh, what luck—the tank was curbed a mere two miles away, in a neighborhood I’ve driven through many times. It was destiny.
All that remained was to get there. Simple. Were I one of those totally-got-my-****-together moms who, thirteen months postpartum, had resumed their daily jogs and yerba mates with Gal Pals in yoga pants, that two mile walk would have been a piece of gluten-free cake. I’m confident enough in myself to share that I, however, am testing the tensile strength of my sweatpants as I type this.
Undaunted, I unfolded my son’s stroller and flopped a couple of towels into the seat (I had A Plan). I put on my very best sneakers and my least stained sweatpants. I even put on a sports bra. And off I sauntered down the street, pushing an empty stroller and secure in my knowledge that this was a voyage I was meant to take, that this was a tank I was meant to have, and that you would be charmed by just how quirky and impulsive—and thrifty!—your wife can be.
Three hours later I returned home, delighted with myself and my new tank. This was going to look SO cool as a nano reef. We even have a tank in the basement to use as a sump, and another to cannibalize for baffles and bracing for the display—because seriously, that pale faux wood grain trim has to go.
Horrifying trim aside, it looks pretty good. And when it’s sitting on the stand, I can take off my glasses and imagine the final setup, with suspended lights and beautiful plumbing and a thriving garden of soft corals. It will be just the thing to kickstart productivity during my workday and will make me seem like a Very Interesting Individual during video calls with clients.
This is a good idea, Kelsey. Good job today.
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Looking forward to seeing progress pictures.......good luck!
