Yay: Finally hauled 10,000 boxes of crap to the attic and out of the garage.
Boo: Managed to drop a computer case onto a bundle of wires in said attic while trying not to fall backwards down the ladder, causing some kind of short in the alarm system that made it go off randomly at 2 AM until I unplugged it.
Yay: Managed to haul several boxes of crap I finally sentimentally separated myself from out to the back corner of the yard to await bulk trash day.
Boo: Managed to pick the one spot in the yard that had a developing-but-yet-invisible fire ant nest.
Quasi-Yay: Well, that's one way to make damned sure I won't be having second thoughts and start rooting through the pile of junk for things to keep.
Yay: Finished clearing out cubbyhole in garage to make room for Awesome Perfect Workbench I Found On Sale.
Boo: Cubbyhole turns out to be exactly 1.25" narrower than Awesome Perfect Workbench I Found On Sale (fortunately discovered just before I bought the damn thing).
Yay: Found and purchased Not Nearly As Awesome and Kind of Chintzy Workbench That At Least Fits and Is The Only Thing I Can Afford Because Jesus Christ Who Drops Four Grand On A Garage Workbench I Am Not Bob Vila Here People.
Boo: Did I mention chintzy? And poorly made? And assembly instructions done entirely in pictures of the entire workbench rendered at 1"x2" size, with an arrow pointing to some random spot the size of one pixel, which in real life encompasses a metal bar with 17 different holes in it, any of which could fit the assembly screw in question at that particular juncture? And argh?
Yay: Assembled the damn thing and hung up tools on pegboard.
Boo: WTF, "pegboard hook multipack" designers? It might be helpful if your tool holders were shaped vaguely like tools. From Earth. That were not designed by Salvador Dali. Apparently you expect my pegboard to hold 50 feet of rope, 12 candy canes, a meathook, a medium-sized bunch of celery, a surfboard for a hamster, and a single screwdriver.
Yay: Managed to find places for all the tools anyway.
Boo: Pocket door to bathroom immediately jams so solidly and in such a position it will require a contractor coming out and cutting a hole in the wall to repair.
Yay: Decide to be useful and change burned out Psycho Pain In The Ass lights in master bath. (Seriously, they're lovely but each one takes approximately 25 minutes to change a bulb just in sheer dis/reassembly. And the special bulbs cost $8 apiece.)
Boo: Last bulb decides to be partially fused to the unit and leaves the 1/bajillionth" metal tip stuck to the contact point inside the unit.
Boo: Did I mention that the only way to change these bulbs is to be standing on the bathroom counter, neck bent at a 95-degree angle to normal to avoid the ceiling and still see into the unit which is 5" from said ceiling?
Yay: I managed to channel Kali and was able to dual-wield needle-nose pliers, while still holding a flashlight and using a screwdriver for leverage.
Boo: After finishing fixing the light triumphantly, I hop down from the counter. A bolt falls out of the recessed set of ceiling lighting and bops me on the head.
Boo: I walk into the kitchen and a bolt randomly falls out of the kitchen stool and clatters across the floor at me. We're coming for you, Clarice...
Yay: Oh look, Rum!