The DIY guy (Week 44)
"If the women don't find you handsome, they should at least find you handy."
Red Green, that iconic TV handyman who could fix just about anything with a roll of duct tape, offers what is perhaps the best reason ever for Doing It Yourself. It's the ladies! As I placed an order for a garden shed and bravely said nyet to the $175 assembly charge, I was already picturing Val swooning into my arms having admired my manly handiwork.
Beyond just engaging my inner cheapskate, venturing into Handyland also fires up my "little grey cells" and ignites my problem-solving abilities. So I started the week poring over a manual and then watching a YouTube video on how to level a space for a garden shed. I even read a great article on why DIY is good for you, beyond the obvious of saving money. Then off I went to Canadian Tire, walking out with a shovel, a level, a square and something I've always coveted in my toolbox - a rubber mallet.
During the week, I chatted with my mom on the phone and told her about my backyard project, thinking I might hear a few words of admiration. What I heard instead was her saying "but you've never been handy, have you?" Challenge accepted, Mom!
After digesting that rebuke and deciding it would all come out in therapy some day, I set to work with a vengeance. As I unpacked the massive box and began sorting screws, support beams, joists and headers, I was inwardly fuming. I mean, I had at least the wit to replace a power steering pump in a 1997 Toyota Tercel, to build a fence, install a toilet, keep family computers running, and effect several roadside repairs on an epic bike ride to California. I couldn't get over the sting of being labeled "not handy." I think I may have suffered from unfair comparison to my uncles, including one who has built several houses from the ground up, and one who built an airplane in his driveway.
By mid-week, I had leveled the spot where the shed would go and put together a foundation for it using cement blocks. In the garage, I began assembling all the pieces that would eventually come together into something that any lawnmower would be proud to call home.
Then came the big day. Final Assembly. It was like having studied for an exam all week not knowing if I'd even opened the right books, let alone read the relevant chapters. The pre-assembled pieces lay before me in a heap. Ignoring the strong suggestion to employ the help of another person, I gleefully charged in, throwing caution to the wind. Here goes!
I know what you're thinking. This is obviously a ready-to-assemble plastic shed and anyone who has ever put together an IKEA bookcase should find this easy peasy. Nay, not so! There was still much to be contemplated in squeezing the shed into its corner resting place, removing a few overhead branches, and keeping it all square so doors would hang evenly. Still, the Final Assembly went smoother than expected, proving that planning and foresight are critical tools in any handyman's kit. Ta da!
Now, where's Val?
NEXT WEEK: Buying nothing!
Red Green, that iconic TV handyman who could fix just about anything with a roll of duct tape, offers what is perhaps the best reason ever for Doing It Yourself. It's the ladies! As I placed an order for a garden shed and bravely said nyet to the $175 assembly charge, I was already picturing Val swooning into my arms having admired my manly handiwork.
Beyond just engaging my inner cheapskate, venturing into Handyland also fires up my "little grey cells" and ignites my problem-solving abilities. So I started the week poring over a manual and then watching a YouTube video on how to level a space for a garden shed. I even read a great article on why DIY is good for you, beyond the obvious of saving money. Then off I went to Canadian Tire, walking out with a shovel, a level, a square and something I've always coveted in my toolbox - a rubber mallet.
During the week, I chatted with my mom on the phone and told her about my backyard project, thinking I might hear a few words of admiration. What I heard instead was her saying "but you've never been handy, have you?" Challenge accepted, Mom!
After digesting that rebuke and deciding it would all come out in therapy some day, I set to work with a vengeance. As I unpacked the massive box and began sorting screws, support beams, joists and headers, I was inwardly fuming. I mean, I had at least the wit to replace a power steering pump in a 1997 Toyota Tercel, to build a fence, install a toilet, keep family computers running, and effect several roadside repairs on an epic bike ride to California. I couldn't get over the sting of being labeled "not handy." I think I may have suffered from unfair comparison to my uncles, including one who has built several houses from the ground up, and one who built an airplane in his driveway.
Then came the big day. Final Assembly. It was like having studied for an exam all week not knowing if I'd even opened the right books, let alone read the relevant chapters. The pre-assembled pieces lay before me in a heap. Ignoring the strong suggestion to employ the help of another person, I gleefully charged in, throwing caution to the wind. Here goes!
I know what you're thinking. This is obviously a ready-to-assemble plastic shed and anyone who has ever put together an IKEA bookcase should find this easy peasy. Nay, not so! There was still much to be contemplated in squeezing the shed into its corner resting place, removing a few overhead branches, and keeping it all square so doors would hang evenly. Still, the Final Assembly went smoother than expected, proving that planning and foresight are critical tools in any handyman's kit. Ta da!
Now, where's Val?
NEXT WEEK: Buying nothing!
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