T is for Tent...

For about a month and a half, now, I've been stressing out about a tent.  A pop up tent, for markets,  A white one.  I think it's safe to say that I thought more about this tent-to-be than the rest of you all, combined, thought about your collective tents.  And it's not just the tent---no, sirree!--there are weights to be considered, and layouts, and all manner of absolutely critical decisions which must be pondered over the course of many nights in lieu of sleep.  And ponder I did, before I finally broke down and bought a mid-range tent that I hope to holy heck will get here before Sunday.

So yesterday morning, I scooted out of the house at the butt-crack of dawn and made a pilgrimage to Home Depot to gather the long-considered cart-full of Tent-Weight Making Things.  Which I gathered, thank you very much, with precious little assistance from the staff of said emporium, who seemed to be suffering from severe caffeine withdrawal.  When I arrived at the checkout, clutching a 50 pound bag of concrete to my chest, the girl rang me up and informed me that my weights would cost damned near as much as my tent.  Resignedly, I swiped my debit card and schlepped my hard-won bounty car-ward.

I am a woman who loves a bargain.  I DIY because I'm too cheap to pay retail.  And it was killing me to think that I was going to spend a week's grocery money on a bunch of Heavy Things.  But what's a girl to do?  I'd Pinterested the subject of tent-weights to death, and PVC and 8" screw eyes seemed to be de rigeur.  But, ugh!  So much money! 

It hit me about three hours into my work day, when I was thinking about eleventy-six things that had nothing whatsoever to do with tents, or weights, or PVC.  I picked up my water bottle for a refill and thought, "Hmm.  Cement?"  And thus, our alterna-weights were born.  The Boy and I hit Target and picked up a six pack of Smart Water.  And four cans of Pringles, just in case.

And then I came to work this morning to discover that the office next door finished painting their premises.  And left four empty paint cans with lids stacked right outside our back door, waiting for me to stumble (literally, of course) upon them and squeal with glee---and abject terror, because falling!---but, yeah.  Mostly glee.  In case I did that thing where I skip from square one to done without explaining again, the plan is to fill said cans with cement.  And, perhaps, if I'm feeling all fancy, to paint them, or cover them with pretty duct tape.  And hang them from our shiny new tent so it won't blow away.  Pics to follow, of course, when I can remember to upload them.