Tuesday, November 10, 2009

Girl 1: Laundry Shelf 0

I recently put up a shelf in my laundry closet. A single wire laundry shelf just like I imagine a few hundred million people have in their laundry closets. The shelf is not important in this story: it's the "putting up" part that matters.

I've been living in my apartment over two years, and each week when I've tried to do laundry, I have had to reach waaaay over and behind my laundry hampers to reach the soap or the dryer sheets. Though the stretching is probably good for me, the stretching became obnoxious. I can't keep the soap on top of the dryer as it just shakes right off. So, after seeing the simple shelf on sale for $7.89, I decided my stretching days were over.

When I got up the next morning, I sized up the project. Seven screws, seven wall hanger thingies, one shelf, and no way to get the wall hangers into the wall. Grr. The Man and I do not have power tools of any kind (not that we don't believe in them, we do, we just can't afford them yet). We did our many errands for the day before stopping at my parents' to borrow one of Dad's drills. He asked me, "Do you know how to tighten the drill bit into the drill? Do you know what size hole you need to make?" Yeah, sure, whatever Dad.

Sunday morning arrived, and I fixed myself on getting that shelf put up. I eyeballed the hole placement after drawing a level line. I put the drill bit into the drill. Power on! Power off. Uh... um... crap. See, I've watched my father use a drill probably a thousand times (honestly, no exaggerating). I understand how they work, and I know what they do. It's not like I was picking up a loaded firearm without any gun safety classes (I even took out my contacts so I could use my polycarbonate glasses as safety glasses while drilling). But watching Dad poke holes in walls is nothing like doing it myself. I understood, "finger on trigger, bit to wall, push." I guess I didn't understand how all that was supposed to go together.

The Man, from his vantage point on the couch behind me, giggled. He paused his video game to watch the disaster unfold. I turned around and pointed the drill at him and pleaded, "come help me?" He smiled, "nope, you're doing just fine killing the wall without me." I pouted. He begrudgingly walked the ten feet to show me how to poke better holes in the wall. It's not that I NEEDED his help, but I'm glad he was there to help. I finally grew some... confidence and drilled the other six holes as I'd marked.

I screwed in six of the seven screws (one screw arrived to me mangled, so I just left it out of the hanger thingy). The shelf popped right on, brackets attached, and I had meself a shelf! The cleaning rags have a new home, and I no longer have to bend over to get soap or dryer sheets or dryer balls. And I did it all by myself. Except that first hole. I had to make his hole bigger, so I vote his doesn't really count anyway. So there. ;)

1 comment:

cm0978 said...

Wow, I didn't realize the Man even knew about drilling holes. He must have been watching his dad more than I realized. Good for you for using a power tool. I have too much awareness of the fact that I can hurt myself with them and have not challenged myself to use any. And I can't hit a nail worth anything!