DIY- DO IT YOURSELF

DIY- DO IT YOURSELF

You’d think I’d know better by now. I mean after all these years, and all those nearly forgotten botched home improvement projects. Maybe it’s a macho thing but I just find it hard to believe that I’m just not the handy man type.( I think it must be hereditary)
I guess I have a short memory, or it’s a little bit like a bad night of drinking, I swear I will never do it again after every DYI project I screw up. Afterwards I’ll sit and sulk for a while and complain when I have to pay a real professional to come out and fix all the damage I’ve done. But once the sting of paying for the project twice fades away, I start getting visions of doing it myself again. It’s hard to explain, I think it’s a man thing.
This ancient urge or instinct, kind of sneaks up on me gradually. I’ll be watching one of those home improvement shows (those guys make everything look so easy) and all of a sudden something primal goes off in me. It’s not unlike the biological clock a women feels when she wants to have a baby. Tick Tock..Tick Tock. I grab for a pickle, some ice cream, and I begin day dreaming while paging thru the Home depot catalogue.
The next thing you know I find myself driving aimlessly until I end up down at the local Home Depot and start looking around. Something magical happens to man when he walks into a place like that. There, spread around him, for as far as the eye can see are tools and manly stuff. Talk about a kid in a candy store, this is like a handyman’s Disney World. The very sight of row after row of shiny tools and supplies is more than even a man with great willpower can resist. The sight of the tools, the helpers with the orange aprons, the smell of the freshly made sawdust, it’s all rather intoxicating. All of this well displayed stuff, excites and emboldens even the most faint hearted of handy men. For me it’s like reverse Kryptonite.
I the blink of an eye I go from Mr. Doolittle to Super handyman. Suddenly home improvement projects that have been long neglected, spring urgently to mind. The thought occurred to me that I’ve been meaning to fix that leaky shower head for a month now, and today is the day. I grab a few of those extra large shopping carts and I’m off like a man possessed. I find myself in a frenzy, grabbing things off the shelf that don’t even belong on the same project (much the same way I grocery or clothes shop).
I finally pull up to the cashier, sweating like a pig, breathing deeply, and with several heavily ladened shopping carts. The lady behind the register has seen this look before and she quietly goes about ringing all the merchandise thru. One after another she quickly scans my goods, as I look on with eager anticipation. She looks up and gives me that knowing wink, and for that moment, I feel invincible.
Hammer, chisel, chainsaw, bicycle lock, paint brush, circular saw, and posthole digger. My heart quickens as she scans thru my drywall screws, fertilizer spreader, toilet plunger and wire cutters. A small crowd begins to gather and everyone starts chanting and clapping their hands with each item as it’s scanned. By now the cashier has the scanner going like a Vegas Slot machine, as she rings up my flashlight, nail apron, razor cutter, left handed monkey wrench, and can of hand sanitizer.
Finally amidst the thunderous sound of applause my grand total appears on the screen. Any man in his right mind would put some items back at this time, but not me. I swallow hard as a few tears well up in my eyes, and I slowly and sheepishly put my low limit visa card back in my wallet. Not to admit defeat, and with much emotion and fanfare I pulled out “Excalibur” the American Express Platinum card, with no know limit. I hold it high above my head with both hands to the applause and adulation of my new fans. I realize I have reached the point of no return, and I boldly run the card thru the scanner with a confident flick of the wrist. I hold my breadth and after a few anxious moments of complete silence, the word “Approved” appears on the screen. I’ve done it, a new store record.
The crowd quickly disburses as I head for the door, and the full weight and reality of my actions come to bear. As I approach my car I realize that most of the stuff I bought won’t begin to fit in my little Dodge Neon. The thought crosses my mind that perhaps I overdid it a little.
Reality comes crashing down as my cell phone plays taps. It’s my wife calling me on the phone to remind me to pick up some groceries on my way home. Guilt sets in rather quickly as the perspiration drips off my forehead and the prospect of hearing “I told you so” rings painfully in my ears.
It was then, as if by a stroke of genius, I thought of the concept of a tailgate parking lot sale. Sure there would be a financial penalty, but it was better than the prospect of admitting I acted impulsively. I quickly made up a sale sign marked. “Tools 50% off”. To my delight, many of the same men who cheered me on, back at the register where now my best customers. I’m not sure if they bought from me because of the great prices or because they had similar parking lot sales of their own. Pride bruised and wallet full of cash, I limped home and buried what was left of the tools in the back of the garage.(never to be used again). I forgot to pick up the groceries on the way home, but my wife soon forgot about it when I handed her the remainder of my cash (mainly in ones and fives) and told her to go out and buy herself something special. When she left on her shopping spree I quickly set the parental viewing lock on my T.V. to block out all future home improvement shows. Needless to say..the urge is gone..
Please feel free to contact me at: pooritalianboy@gmail.com
P.I.B.