Do It Myself

ras

I’ve only got one of these life things. And I can’t master plumbery, electrionary, workery and homeworkery all in one.

Well maybe I could if I read and applied some lifestyle guru stuff, but I’m going to have to draw the line somewhere. Which means I need to make some money somehow so someone else who enjoys learning plumbing will do it for me.

technology. It’s amazing. If someone gave me all the hours there are, a mission, and lots of reading material I could do wonderful things.

but real life keeps catching up with me. It’s just a phase. I’ll grow out of it. Geekolesence.

Seriously, I’m sick of buying two new umbrellas a year because the material comes off or the spokes break. So I can cut up the old one to patch up the less broken one, right? Some stranger yelled out my umbrella was dangerous which was embarrassing.

ta daa. I’m going to keep a weekly track to spur me on.

Fixed the sink! Now I know I am destined to be a plumberess (next is making it so the washing machine water doesn’t need to go in to it)

Opened and closed the doors! They are very very dodgy doors and screwdrivers can be involved.

Repaired the grass! Sprinkled down some grass seed where the paddling pool got out of hand. Well, it’s sort of potential grass repair. At least I thought about it.

I can do things myself! Now I just need to work out a way to resolve the Middle East crisis and I’d be feeling really good.

of any practical use, except for basic house maintenance and feeding of people.

Just accepting that I will not be able to create a perfect world, the world has to be seen to be perfect instead.

I think that’s what Jimmy Cliff meant by ‘Pressure Drop’. Whoosh. When it drops you gonna feel it.

Not before time too.

there are painted walls. I’ve been noticing them since I decided to turn my cackhands to DIY. I mean, if it was so awful, there wouldn’t be so many, would there? It blows my mind thinking of how many hours the human race must spend putting paint on walls. I could weep at the waste.

So I have come to the conclusion that people must like painting them for it to be so widespread. There must be some therapeutic paint thing that I am missing – is there a zen guide to painting? Does modern day buddha get enlightened when he’s got a brush in his hand?

I suppose there is the option of taking some trippy drugs and making the experience more interesting, but I don’t want psychedelic walls, I want boring white ones.

Need to find the key to painting happiness. If anyone has any ideas I’m listening.

feeling very pleased with myself for having the brilliant idea of wrapping pages of old dictionaries or encyclopedias round the tins of paint so I could have something to read while I was painting.

And then I thought about it a bit harder.

in do-it-yourself is.

And then do it.

With feeling, as arlo would say.