D.I.Y. Do It Yourself?...I Think Not

D.I.Y. DO IT YOURSELF?.... I Think Not...                                        

         With the recent time change and the tantalizingly close end to winter, I am ready to burst ahead and spring into action. Maybe it's the longer daylight hours, or the warmer sunshine ,or the receding snow, or the return of busy birds, but I'm beginning to feel that I must do something. Perhaps, the dusty pile of laminate flooring, the buffet/hutch that's rigged to drop a door every time it's touched, the rolled hammock in a bedroom corner, the light fixture on the pantry floor, or the door propped against a wall, are just a few not-so-subtle reminders that I need to take action.                                                                                                                        

         D.I.Y. season is upon me, but I have a problem. My creative vision is impaired by my limited eye-hand co-ordination. Hammering a nail should be a simple process, but concentrating on its head causes me to lose sight of the swinging hammer. My left hand doesn't think it's fair that it's always the vulnerable one. Dropping the nail, scrambling for the nail, bending the nail, missing the nail, or burying the nail too deep.... You get the picture. Even hanging a portrait or artwork is difficult.                                                                                          

         Most tools are designed to be wielded one-handed. Most of the time, I need two hands to hold the nail, or screw, or project steady, AND two hands to control the tool. Screwdrivers require a ratcheting motion, force, and precision. Electric tools vibrate, whirr, whine, and they're unforgivingly quick. In my hands, it would be like bronco-busting. I'd be along for the short ride. Power nailers and staplers are known as guns. In my two-handed grip, either one would be a potential lethal weapon.                                                                                                    

         So, I do not have a bond, an understanding with tools, but my husband does. He is The Tool Whisperer. They unquestioningly do his bidding. He and tools are comfortable together. They just do not have this need to be in each other's constant company. When necessary, they re-unite. They accomplish things as a team, when the spirit strikes them.                                                                                

         I have become their spiritual leader, their motivator. I have the visions. Okay, my spouse often has his own ideas, too. We differ on the actual completion. Exactly when is "someday"? D.I.Y. becomes Delegate Improvements Yourself.                                                                                                                        

         My first step for a home improvement project is to introduce the concept. Initiate a conversation. Discuss the pros and cons. Talk about supplies. What tools could possibly get the job done? In other words, plant the seeds. Patience and repetition might be necessary.                                                                                          

         After the feasibility study; initiated, monitored, and assessed by moi; I may gather the needed materials together in a prominent location where they are bound to be noticed. They are then quite possibly seen, tripped over, relocated, used as a temporary shelf--whatever. A visual reminder can be helpful. Usually, this phase of the operation serves to strengthen only my resolve to see it through. I am an everything-in-its-place type of person.                              

         Sometimes, my hubby can be spurred into action by an invigorating foray to a building supply store. Row after row of promising possibilities beckon. This can be a risk though. Valuable time may be lost to browsing, schmoozing, tip-trading and do-it-yourself tall tales ,tool hefting, product demonstrations, and long line-ups.          

         Sometimes, The Tool Whisperer is able to avoid the pile of construction materials, my suggestions, my requests, and even the occasional nagging. I am forced to grab his attention. I need to impress upon him the importance of our project. It is imperative that he be present in the here and now, NOT landing a triple axel, Not rounding third base, NOT scrambling in the crease, Not running to the five-yard line, Not cheering or booing a NASCAR driver, NOT yelling instructions to the soldier surrounded by the enemy, NOT holding his breath as a train hurtles to a crash. In other words, he may be distracted by a sporting event or living vicariously via an action movie.                                                                      

         I must initiate the actual action, the "doing" of Do It Yourself. I might start by asking him where to find the necessary tool. Even if I've been the only one to touch it recently, when I put it away. Pretending not to know the tool's proper name and referring to it as the "whatchamacallit" or the "doohickey" may evoke a response. Better yet, waving the tool around while I state my intentions is an attention grabber. I could hold it upside down or if it comes apart, in two or more pieces.                                                                                                                        

         I could attempt to begin our project myself. My fumbling will not be an act. I will be talking out loud. " I forget. Is it righty-tighty? Is the thingy supposed to come out? Which one is the Philips head? Is it the cross or the square? OOPS! Was that supposed to happen?"                                                                                

         Of course, I am provoking a reaction. My Tool Whisperer may be gallant and rescue the damsel in distress;before further First Aid action is necessary. He may feel momentarily superior, as in, 'it's a man thing, don't worry your pretty little head'. ( Sexist, but in my case, sadly true. ) It's more likely that he fears for the well-being of his tools. He wouldn't want them to be mishandled or abused.          

         Wait a minute. I should have prepared a disclaimer or a warning for myself. After all is said and done, my subtle overtures may fail to kick start the real tool wrangler. THERE IS THE POSSIBILITY THAT I MAY HAVE TO STRUGGLE THROUGH THIS PROJECT ALONE.                                                                      

         Once my hubby has saved me from myself; how could he resist, that familiar sensation of a gadget in his hand and the thrill of a job well done should be motivator enough. A few offers of help from me: "Here, let me hold that thingy. Which one is the Robertson? Oh, put it over there? Is it supposed to do that?"; should be incentive enough for him to finish the project.                              

         I am permitted to touch the tools again when it's time to clean up. Apparently, neither they nor I am in danger then. I don't mind. I need to know where they are for the next Delegate-Improvements- Yourself; D.I.Y. or W.I.P.; Wife-Initiated-Project .                                                                                                    

          The hammock is destined to be hung at our campsite. Despite its lack of instructions, I am confident my hubby will handle it. I do, however, foresee him having to construct a step or two, and a railing.                                                            

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