While I certainly agree with this statement, I can not claim to be able to do anything remotely mechanical, or electrical, or plumbical (I know it’s not a word but it should be).
I was out today in my camper trying to redecorate and by that I mean put up some pictures and plaques. It was not pretty.
I have that awful stuff from the big box DIY store that looks like bead board but is made out of some weird crap called Masonite. You can not easily pound nails into it. And I should know better because we had it in our daughter’s room and it was near impossible to put anything up on her walls. But I am an eternal optimist or a bubble off of plumb as I attempted to pound tiny little nails into the walls of my camper.
And to make matters worse, it was HOT in there. And I don’t do HOT.
After a good hour of pounding, missing, pounding, missing, cursing, pounding, bending the nail, cursing, pounding, dropping the nail, cursing, looking for the nail,cursing, sweating, pounding, missing, cursing, cursing, cursing, I decide I needed to plug in the electricity so I could use the fan. I really contemplated turning on my AC but by now my brain was fried and for some reason I instead chose the fan.
Fan is running and I decide maybe using my new little drill might be easier than pounding in nails so I plug it in and attempt to figure out which way is forward and which way is backward…”righty~tighty, lefty~loosely”. Then I have to figure out how to put in the drill bit (oh my gosh, is an electric screwdriver the same thing as a drill? This is shaped like a gun, so I am assuming it is a drill….am I right?) and does it need that long attachment piece? By now, I have been baking at 375 degrees for way more than an hour and I look at the fan and I notice that the cord is in the front of it (it is a really cool old vintage fan) and so I turn it around and lo and behold, I had had the fan facing backward….about now my frustration level is up around “I need a hot fudge sundae as big as a mixing bowl” and I am just about ready to either cry or set the damn thing on fire.
I am having some gal pals over on Saturday and I wanted to have my camper all redone in my new theme (vintage cowboy) and of course, I wait until the last possible moment because stress must be my drug of choice and I’m an addict.
Ok, drill in hand, I find some screws and attempt to screw one in. Can’t remember which way to push the lever to make it go in, have to look again at screw gun and try each way to see which is “tighty” and which way is “loosey”. Put screw back up and start driver and screw falls down behind cushion. Locate screw while adding new words to my cursing vocabulary. Put screw up where I want it, not sure which way to push lever AGAIN, take screw down, push levers to see which is “tighty” and which is “loosey” all the while thinking I must be on the brink of dementia since I can’t seem to remember how to run the *&%^%$ drill. Third try is the charm, right? Nay, nay.
Now the screw has fallen on the floor somewhere and the sweat is dripping off my face and my Van Wave temper is just about to blow and I am debating on either throwing the drill through the screen door or just screaming at the top of my voice until I stroke out.
How flipping hard can it be to put one tiny screw into a piece of real beadboard? Seriously…… I raised a child. I held jobs. I drive a car. I sang Italian arias. I have created hundreds of different pieces of arts and crafts. I should be able to screw one lousy screw in and pound a small nail in straight, right?
I have resorted to smashing tacks into the walls with a hammer and hand screwing the screws in after smashing a nail in to make a hole to screw the screw in. After putting up a couple of things I decided it was time for a break and a cold one and a hot burrito would make it all better.
Two hours later, I am still breaking. I may be breaking all the rest of the night.
Your Queen (who can’t do anything normal)