Handyperson in training

Resolution #4 on my New Year's list was to "Learn how to use tools and work with bricks, tile, wood and other materials so I can build and fix things." One would think that at my advanced stage of maturity I would have already acquired these skills, but noooo. I remember 20 years ago when I last had my own place and was teaching myself to use tools. I bought a microwave cart in a box and was assembling it out on my back deck. The Capt, a new acquaintance, showed up about then, and wanted to help. I said an extra pair of hands would be helpful, but I wanted to figure it out for myself from the instructions. Nevertheless, somehow in the process the screwdriver ended up in his hand, and I reverted back to my usual ineptness.


As a little girl, I was warned away from my dad's workshop, out of fear I'd 1) break something or 2) hurt myself. I've had a sort of lifelong phobia about tools and repair jobs, forever asking somebody else (usually the guy in my life) to help (i.e. do it for me). For some reason, my little sister didn't receive the parental warnings, or ignored them, and grew up to be an ace repairperson who won't shrink from any challenge.


I want to be like that. I would like to become ept. (I looked it up, there's no such word. You can be inept, but not ept, so they say. Like you can be ruthless, but not ruth. Hapless but not hap.)


Flash forward twenty years, and here I am in my own place again. I have issues with funky electrical connections, crumbly construction, design flaws that are begging to be set right, with the proper tools and materials.

I can hire workers to do a lot of these jobs, but that entails sitting around waiting for them to show up. As anyone who's hired Mexican labor can tell you, mañana doesn't mean tomorrow. And they don't call if they're running late. 

There's a toilet that wants to flush all day if the handle isn't flipped back up. A new drinking water system I dreamed up that requires altering the pantry. Electrical outlets without cover plates. A bicycle with two flat tires. TWO vehicles needing maintenance. And that's just for starters.

Last time we were at Harbor Freight, the Capt patiently helped me assemble the beginnings of a tool kit, including a bright yellow toolbag, pliers, screwdrivers, a nifty fiberglass hammer and a shiny blue power drill.


Thus equipped, a couple of days ago I took out the shelf in the pantry with the power drill, an historic event my friend Kris celebrated by snapping the above photo. Now I'm going to paint it inside with Kilz to prevent mold, then a coat of white. Then with the power drill I'll re-install the shelf a foot higher (remember, I'm working with cement walls here, not wood. This is not as easy as it sounds.) Finally, I'll set my new water jug, with a tap at the bottom, in place and no more flipping five-gallon jugs upside down for me. It's a startling bright orange plastic, like you see at construction sites, but the tap is a lot better than those lever things that break off, spewing water all over your floor.


Next I'm thinking of refinishing my coffee table and end table (on which some fool carved his name long before I bought it). So it's time to look for a sander and learn about varnish. Can't wait!