Here in about five minutes, I’m going to have to call Sarcastro and admit that I can’t fix my door myself, not because I don’t know how to use tools or follow his eminently brilliant advice, but because I can’t measure for shit and cannot shop.
Here is Sarcastro’s brilliant idea: the screws, as they knock around in the door, are making the holes in the door larger than the holes in the hinges, as I said, therefore, I should get me some little plastic anchors and sink them into the door holes and then run the screws through the hinges and into the door.
Well, so, I go to Lowe’s. I flirt with old men. I find the anchor that appears to fit the measurement I made for the hole. I’m not sure. I call Sarcastro. He’s all going over the whole plan. I’m like no, I get the whole plan. I have no confidence in my abilities to execute the important details. He’s all like, this is your chance to throw off the yoke of your patriarchal oppression and empower yourself by fixing the door. Don’t fail now. I’m like, great, that will be very comforting when I’ve fucked this up.
And, I was right. Failing for feminism sucks.
Y’all. Here’s another stupid thing I do. I take things like this as if they’re indicative of some larger issue. I bought anchors slightly too large and I’m sitting here all like, this means I’m incompetent.
In real life, it doesn’t. It just means I need to go back and get some smaller anchors and, thus, some smaller screws.
I wonder if this is a problem inherent with being an English major. In literature, if a character is always making 4 trips to the hardware store when she really could just make one if she knew what she was doing, it means something larger about her character and the themes of the novel. The author doesn’t include little details like that without a larger reason.
And I think I’ve gotten used to that, that I take this simple shit that’s really not a big deal and I extrapolate from that something larger and more terrible about the state of my life.
So, you know what? Fuck it. I’m not going to call Sarcastro and complain that I’m an idiot and don’t know what I’m doing and beg him to help me. I’m just going to go back to Lowe’s and get the right shit.
If I have to call and beg for help, I want it to be because I can’t both hold the door in place and put the screws in, not because I need someone to hold my hand in the store.
Also, I finally found the drain zipper things that Exador told me about many months ago, that’s supposed to unclog your drains by, I guess, cutting up the hair stuck down there. I’m not sure. They come with a crazy warning about being careful to not cut yourself.
Folks, I am so excited to be doing something potentially dangerous in my tub that I’m going to go try it before I head back to Lowe’s.