I get a laugh from Jack Handey and have deep respect for W.C. Handy, the father of the blues. But as for my own handiness, well, it leaves a lot to be desired.
My snow blower refused to work during last weekend's storm, but I have no clue how to fix it. When Beth put in a bulldog bottle opener on our deck last summer, and couldn't get the screws to bite all the way, I looked at it and said, "Oh well." Then I felt really stupid when I mentioned this to one of my neighbors and he showed up with a power screwdriver and finished the job that I should have done.
While holding his baby.
I call it laziness or procrastination, but what my condition really boils down to is lack of self-confidence. My dad used to do stuff around the house when I was a kid, but he wasn't a real fix-it kind of guy. I didn't take shop class in high school. Nobody in my family needs to keep Borax next to the sink to clean up their greasy hands.
As I've gotten older, I've realized that I have some sort of executive function issue. I have a hard time looking at a mechanical problem and figuring out how to approach it and get 'er done, as the saying goes.
OK, sometimes I'm just lazy and would rather read a book, work on my memoir or do a crossword puzzle than paint that gray spot near the back door that's supposed to be yellow like the rest of the wall.
But once in a while I actually get off my executive-misfunctioning butt and get something done. Like today, when I installed a new light fixture in our basement. I'm feeling pretty damn proud of myself.
Sure, the light's been broken for, oh, maybe two months, since my nephew yanked the string out of the ceiling-mounted fixture. But the idea of trying to fix the light, or replace it, was worse in my mind than having to walk an extra eight feet to turn on a different light in the basement.
If we used this light more often, I probably would have gotten to it sooner. Like, you know, maybe only a month after it got broken.
Anyway, here's some W.C. Handy:
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