A Handyman is Me!
This is my very first home. I have lived in a million different apartments and lived with several different families in their homes. Ergo, I have never had the responsibility/obligation to maintain my own set of tools (aside from basic hammers, wrenches, and screwdrivers) in order to fix things up around my own house.
As a matter of fact, I recall when my dad bought me my own toolbox with tools on my 12th or 13th or 14th birthday. I was quite upset. "These are stupid! Why would I want my own tools? I'll never use them!" I exclaimed, very loudly and ungratefully like an ungrateful teenager would.
The fact that I was partially correct concerning the length of time before I would actually need them is somewhat besides the point. I find myself now wishing I had a toolbox and a set of tools, if for no other reason than to accomplish the tasks at hand without spending the $200 at a single shot in Home Depot to begin my tool collection fresh. What's more, that $200 barely scratched the surface of what I'll need.
We pulled out a malfunctioning kitchen drawer, only to determine that it was the drawer, not the runner, that was malfunctioning, and that the repair was beyond our ability.
We fixed a car with misfiring pistons by replacing the coilpacks. Not too difficult, but more car intensive than I have tried in a long time.
We used wood glue to reattach the support rails that had fallen off our dining room chairs. It was not fun to sit on a hard wooden floor for that long, let me tell you.
And finally, we installed a ceiling fan in the guest bedroom downstairs, the only bedroom without on. I had to borrow a ladder from the neighbor to accomplish the ladder (latter! Get it? Ha ha! Ha... nevermind), but it felt good to improve my new house. My house. Yeah, that still feels strange.
After I get off work today, dad and I will tackle the crib. The joints have been stripped so badly, it is barely holding together. We will have to repair the holes with dowels, drill new holes, and reattach all the pieces. This job required me to purchase my First Power Tool Ever - a drill.
Sheesh, an awful lot of firsts all in one small period of time...
As a matter of fact, I recall when my dad bought me my own toolbox with tools on my 12th or 13th or 14th birthday. I was quite upset. "These are stupid! Why would I want my own tools? I'll never use them!" I exclaimed, very loudly and ungratefully like an ungrateful teenager would.
The fact that I was partially correct concerning the length of time before I would actually need them is somewhat besides the point. I find myself now wishing I had a toolbox and a set of tools, if for no other reason than to accomplish the tasks at hand without spending the $200 at a single shot in Home Depot to begin my tool collection fresh. What's more, that $200 barely scratched the surface of what I'll need.
We pulled out a malfunctioning kitchen drawer, only to determine that it was the drawer, not the runner, that was malfunctioning, and that the repair was beyond our ability.
We fixed a car with misfiring pistons by replacing the coilpacks. Not too difficult, but more car intensive than I have tried in a long time.
We used wood glue to reattach the support rails that had fallen off our dining room chairs. It was not fun to sit on a hard wooden floor for that long, let me tell you.
And finally, we installed a ceiling fan in the guest bedroom downstairs, the only bedroom without on. I had to borrow a ladder from the neighbor to accomplish the ladder (latter! Get it? Ha ha! Ha... nevermind), but it felt good to improve my new house. My house. Yeah, that still feels strange.
After I get off work today, dad and I will tackle the crib. The joints have been stripped so badly, it is barely holding together. We will have to repair the holes with dowels, drill new holes, and reattach all the pieces. This job required me to purchase my First Power Tool Ever - a drill.
Sheesh, an awful lot of firsts all in one small period of time...