Bunnings moment that means you are a true grown-up

Adulthood isn’t reached when you can drink or vote or drive – it’s only when you ask this question at Bunnings that you’re a true grown-up, writes Mel Buttle

‘It actually does take paint off,” I called out. I had been told it did, I believed the word of the lady at Bunnings who sold it to me, but it never hurts to just check for yourself with a little experiment.

I’m the proud owner of a high-pressure washer and, predictably, within 10 minutes of using it, I’d stripped a small circle of paint off one of the back stairs. “They needed painting anyway,” I thought to myself to justify my huge error.

I’d not really read the instructions, I never do, the manual only comes out if something starts smoking. If I’m to be honest, by the manual, I mean I’ll watch a YouTube how-to video, as long as it’s under three minutes long. I don’t have all day, the roof isn’t going to Gerni itself is it?

Comedian Mel Buttle has found the true meaning of adulthood.

A high-pressure washer is a true signifier that your youthful nonsense days are over.

Goodbye nightclubs and pub crawls, now I’m all about clean concrete, slime-free pavers and spending Saturday morning listening to John Farnham while I blast marks off my driveway. I never thought I’d be a Gerni person. With the right salesperson, I could’ve seen myself getting sucked into a pizza oven or a hedge trimer, but a pressure hose seemed to be only for people who owned boats. Did I need a Gerni? No.

Did I go to Bunnings to buy a Gerni? No. Did I come home with two storage tubs, a new doormat, a Gerni and forget the lawn fertiliser I went there to purchase? Yes.

You’re not an adult when you can drink or vote or drive, you’re a proper grown-up when you’re asking Bunnings staff for advice on which high-pressure washer has the best attachments for getting bird poo off the deck.

A high-pressure washer is a marvel of science to me – water and electricity coming together for once to create something wonderful.

You can pressure clean almost anything; not your foot though. Unlike mowing a wet, sloped lawn, pressure washing isn’t an activity for bare feet – yes that’s a little joke. I’d recommend gumboots, or shoes that you’ve been looking for a reason to throw out.

I fall asleep at night dreaming of things to clean: the deck, the eaves, the fence. I have a fantasy of pressure washing the shower, I just want to see that mould’s smug little face when it’s blasted off the tiles.

Yes, I did just write fantasy and a cleaning tool in the same sentence. Young Mel would want to give me a wedgie for what I’ve become. She’d also be sad to learn I’m not in the Spice Girls, nor have I married Leonardo DiCaprio.

Mel Buttle on what has really made her feel like an adult.

Hot tip, order of events is key with pressure cleaning. Let’s say your filthy, greasy barbecue is up against your freshly cleaned white balcony. All of a sudden, the same voice that was in your head as a kid pops back up.

The voice that said things like, “Light those leaves in a bucket, see what happens.” This week that little voice said, “Why don’t you give the barbecue plates a clean, just leave them on the barbecue, no need to take them off’.

It didn’t end well, the muck splattered all over the sparkling clean, white balcony. But because it’s behind the barbecue, I didn’t notice until after I’d put the Gerni away under the house, coiled the extension cord up into a neat oval like they taught me in naval cadets, and padlocked the shed.

My year of being 40 has been defined by pressure: my pressure washer, my pressure cooker and, of course, the perfect Gerni soundtrack song, Pressure Down by John Farnham.

Now if you’ll excuse me I have to go and buy some white paint for the stairs, as mine are down to the wood. It’s clean wood though, that’s a plus.