I very much enjoy figuring out how to fix something and then actually doing it. I like using my hands, using tools, and using my brain to suss out the problem and its solution. I love learning how to do repairs as well–the little tricks, especially. For example, when the artisans who replaced the dining room windows introduced the ex and me to door shims, to fix a rubbing front door, it was a revelation!
I do not come from a family of handy people. You’d think that my father, having grown up on a farm, would have been handy… nope. I mean, he could use a tool better than my brothers and mother, but not much better. It was like he had repair dyslexia: the kitchen faucet he replaced worked backwards (cold/hot lines obviously switched and never fixed), as did a light switch in the hall.
Mom was absolutely dangerous with a tool. I think every time she used a screwdriver1 she ended up bleeding from a self-inflicted wound. We didn’t even really have a tool box with a decent set of tools. A hammer, yes, because there was always art to hang, but art hangers were not used–just whatever nail/brad/or even screw that could be pounded into a wall to hold up the work2. Instruction sheets were often ignored. Duct tape abounded. When I think about what she would have done with a power tool like a drill3, I shudder; it would surely have resulted in hospitalization.
I have no memories at all of my eldest brother ever using a tool. I mean he must have, but I don’t remember it, except for his dismantling small reel-to-reel tape recorders (and never putting them back together successfully). I do remember him painting my dad’s old double as a summer job; but repairs? Nope. The other brother was his mother’s son. I remember when he got the parts to make a dining room table for himself and his girlfriend (or wife already? I forget), from an unpainted wood shop of some kind, and proudly showed it off. As I went to sit at it, it went ka-lump: it was not level. Not even close. I’m pretty sure he just had to screw in the legs–that is they were pre-cut, etc.–but he couldn’t manage to make it work. Yikes.
Me, I liked watching repair people do their stuff and learned, somehow, over time, how to do some things. I watched a lot of This Old House as a kid, too, which I think helped. I think it is my nature to read instructions–for anything from a homework assignment to an IKEA flatpack–and to follow them precisely that has helped me too. But, overall, it was probably working in the studio with Steve Webster where I learned the most.
Being a photographer in the pre-digital days, Steve built his own sets. He built out his studios4, too. And he maintained his equipment. I learned a ton from him–how to use power tools, how to properly hang something on different kinds of walls, painting techniques, when and how to “cheat” a repair (aesthetic stuff versus actual repairing), and how to try to fix something without the assumption that it (I) would fail5. Instead of repairs being a drudge, they became fun–puzzles to solve.
And I loves me some puzzles.
Sadly, some men do not take well to a woman offering them suggestions on how to do a repair. I have more than one ex who fit that mould. Instead of accepting that I might have a clue and could offer good advice, I have often been dismissed or, worse, told I was emasculating by telling them6 what to do. If I did a repair myself, that too was emasculating.
Ah well, they are exes now…
Being single (again) has given me the opportunity to do repairs and maintenance myself. I am mostly enjoying it. My latest mini-project was upgrading the tv antenna. My Fabulous Neighbor acted as if I rewired the house when I told her about the mini project. Really, though, I simply purchased a new indoor antenna, swapped out its cable (I wanted white and a smidge longer), and added an LTE filter. I also got cable clips so the coax is hardly noticeable, although I have to admit it was a bit of a challenge to install them just because of the very limited space (no room to swing a hammer). Now I get all the channels I want without the signal loss from passing cars and planes, and it looks much better.
I’m surprisingly handy7. I think some of it is also because of all my mindfulness work. Fixing things often requires extra focus and deliberate movement. It can be a form of meditation–like walking or playing an instrument can be. So maybe that’s another reason I (mostly) enjoy it.
With the seasons changing, I have a big project in mind, one that I have wanted to do for years. However, it will require buying (or borrowing) a (miter) saw and maybe a nail gun. We’ll see. Meanwhile, I will enjoy watching football without signal loss.
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- Frankly, if she bothered to use a screwdriver it was a minor miracle–a flatware knife was her usual “tool” resulting in lots of wonky tips on our flatware. ↩︎
- Forget about mollies or pilot holes…brute force and swearing were her techniques. ↩︎
- FWIW, I love my Ryobi power drill. I refused to get rid of it when the ex and I got together (he had a different brand); now I’m extra glad I held onto it. ↩︎
- The old Worldwide Hideout was in a casket building; then, later, he bought an old church for the new Hideout. ↩︎
- Again, this was in the very early days of the internet, so it wasn’t like you could just look for a tutorial on YouTube or something. ↩︎
- That they couldn’t see the difference between someone (me) offering advice and dictating directions is a big tell here. I was almost always doing the first–the latter was very rare and when it was something of mine that I needed help with, like “I can’t get this to turn, could you help me? You’ll need to use a lubricant…” ↩︎
- Maybe not so surprising–my cousins (mom’s sister’s kids) are both very good with tools–doing finish carpentry and making stained glass, etc. ↩︎