Lights: 1 – Zoë: 0

Today was going to be my day. Today was going to be my victory.
My coming of age as a strong, self-sufficient and capable woman.

It would mark my entrance into the world of crafty handymen and DIY-goddesses and bring about a new era of enlightenment. Or, at least, actual light.

Sadly, the fates saw differently fit;
Turns out – those two left hands I’ve always claimed to have: not a lie.
And Youtube tutorials on how to fix a ceiling lamp: pretty damn useless.
IKEA appliances: not exactly up for any ‘outstanding equipment awards’.

Because the grand total after a two hour fight to make this happen: One very sore ankle, two still tingly fingers, one very foul mood and 0 lamps attached to the ceiling.
Gawddammit. Plusside: my photo-gallery filled with snapshots to document my rise to power and to honor my victory…do help in telling my tale of woe.

Let me take you on a wild ride of Saturday chores; also known as the Epic Quest of Light Procurement.

TAUNTING ME FROM AFAR!

These two lonely bulbs in my hall and dressing room have been taunting me for well over three months now. As had the two lamps-that-I-intended-there glaring at me from their perch in the living room, every time I walked by.
‘He‘ had promised me. PROMISED ME several times in ‘the weeks before‘ to come fix them for me (pre-breakup). The fact that they’re still, as we speak (though in a much more unpacked status) on my dressoir indicates how well that promise stuck. Maybe I should’ve timed that break-up better. Or paid better attention while hanging the rest of ’em. Not that that knowledge is any good to me at this point in life, but yaknow. Captain Hindsight gotta make himself heard.

Lamps…tools…more lamps. What more could I possibly need. Except…yaknow…skills.

Well boo fucking hoo, I thought. ‘So fucking what, the big man is not going to come finish what he promised to start. Big effing surprise. But fuck that, I can totally do what any man can do. Yaknow what, I’ma hang these bitches myself.’ (yes, I’m very foulmouthed when talking to myself.). So off I went. I EVEN read the safety instructions on these damn KARWEI lamps (not just for picture value) to make sure I’d not end up killing myself. Only to still end up almost killing myself.

Turns out….that shirt print would be more aptly chosen than I’d thought. ‘I’m not angry. I’m dissappointed‘

There’s more challenges to hanging light fixtures than I’d bargained for. The men that hung the previous ones always made it seem so easy. That’s just a much a lie as people who can snowboard and tell the rest of the world that it’s totally doable. Or that claim parenting is a walk in the park. It isn’t. NONE OF IT IS, OK.

So I got up on a chair (strong, self-sufficient and capable women DON’T necessarily own any step stools or ladders. Just sayin’. Not a requirement). And fell down off of that chair trying to grab the drill from between my feet. Hence the painful ankle.

I grunted, got myself together and went in for try two after re-watching the Youtube tutorial for the fifth time. That’s what a real champion of home decorating would do, after all. I got this, I thought. Until my fingertip made contact with the exposed wiring right at the very second that I was considering whether or not I had turned off the light beforehand. I was pretty sure I had. The electric jolt that still has me slightly tingly was a pretty telling sign that I didn’t. It was only after I had found something cold for my ankle, and had some feeling return to my fingers that I figured a third attempt would be in order. With the light turned off. The drill within reach. And Youtube loudly singing me the song of light-installment.

It took four more rewatches and a very intense stare-sesh at my ceiling that I realized I did not have the required attachment points, nor thingamajigs to actually do the attaching to make this lamp business happen. Or well. Maybe I did. Actually. I probably did. But I gave up anyway because fucking lamps. Fuckers. They were just there smirking at me going ‘Not today. Missy. Not today. YOU SHALL NOT PASS! eh…hang.’

I am NOT meant for home improvement. Destruction? Sure. Hand me a sledge hammer and I’ll go to town. But lights? They’re going off my lists of ways-to-prove-I’m-a-strong-independent-woman. Lights: 1 – Me: 0.

Hope your Saturdays are going better.
At least I have snacks.