“Excuse me, ma’am… are you married?”
This as I was crouched in front of our car during my lunch break, in the DMV parking lot, attempting to attach new license plates without getting my office clothes dirty. I looked in the direction of the voice to find an older gentleman standing across the lot. I sized him up in the midst of my “deer-in-the-headlights-what-are-you-thinking” stare and decided he looked harmless enough for an answer in the affirmative.
“I’ve never seen a married woman who could use a screwdriver. You need to tell your husband what a lucky man he is.” He laughed and went on his way.
If only he could see my closet.
I was off work for a few days one Christmas and decided I had to do something about my messy closet. I am not a morning person, and I had spent one too many “Manic Mondays” looking for a matching shoe, a belt, or a slip, always when I was already running late. One evening I found myself on a home improvement web site looking at closet organizers. I found one particular brand rated “easy installation,” looked at the tools list, and decided, “I can do this.” The next day I made a trip to town and came home with two shoe racks, a 4- to 6-foot adjustable closet organizer, hamper kit, stud finder, and cordless drill.
The shoe racks went together easily, with only one misstep in the “insert pole B into slot A” assembly process. Confidence high, I eagerly tore into the closet organizer box.
My first clue should have been the 14-page instruction manual. Only 2-1/2 pages included a language I happen to speak, with a few pictures. The stud finder looked simple enough, and the unit beeped and flashed in what appeared to be reasonable places on the wall. I marked the spots and drilled the starter holes. Two went straight through drywall.
I ran the stud finder again, marked the spots, and drilled the starter holes. Two more went through drywall. On the third try I hung the rail. I had extra holes, but the rail cover would hide those. So far so good. I attached the posts to the rail and started drilling. Two more spots went straight through to drywall. At this point I did what any intelligent, independent, twenty-first century working girl would do.
I called my husband.
He explained over the phone, in almost exactly the same words as the packaging, how to use the stud finder. I explained, as calmly as possible for someone who had just turned a wall into swiss cheese, that the stud finder did not work according to male logic or package directions. He suggested I measure 18 to 24 inches from a known good stud and tap the wall for the difference in sound. That seemed reasonable enough.
I measured and tapped, tapped and measured, and every tap emitted the same sound. No difference. The same empty thud. I called husband back, this time to request the drywall screws referenced in the instructions for walls without studs. I started this “easy” project at 2 o’clock in the afternoon. I hung the last of the clothes back in the closet during the 10 o’clock news.
I must have been playing with the other cherubs on fluffy clouds the day mechanical and engineering skills were distributed. My daddy could fix anything. I can fix dinner, but beyond that I’m in over my head and usually just make a bigger mess for someone else to fix. My husband says this is why there are professionals.
At least he’ll never have to worry about his license plates.
LOL!!!!! Good thing I wasn't there helping you…..you probably would have had a lot more holes in the drywall!
Oh sis , we are related, lol , except at some point i might have taken a couple swings at the wall ,something not included in the instructions!
Jj