Nov 19, 2019 3 min read

This weekend, I felt for the first time since I started my new job like I could handle doing something extra instead of just playing catchup on the laundry, dishes, and house cleaning. I decided to work on a project that my husband had begun for me last fall that had never been finished.

In a small room upstairs that used to be a bedroom, he had begun building a countertop and hanging shelves that would allow me to use that space for my hobbies of scrapbooking, crochet, and cross-stitch. (Read: A space where I will be expected to contain the myriad items that I collect for craft purposes.)

So, while my husband was away for the day, I gathered up the circular saw, a tape measure, a rubber mallet, some wood glue, a wrench, and the miter bolts needed to put the countertop together. All I had to do was cut and install a support post, glue the counter seam, and install the bolts, because he had already cut the necessary angle and built the framework on which the counter would rest. Seeing as how I had watched an instructional YouTube video beforehand, I felt 87% confident that I had all of the information I needed.

Have I met me? What was I thinking?

First, I couldn’t find a circular saw. Instead, I attempted to cut my support post to the proper size with a hand saw. It was working, but my arm was getting tired and the saw kept jumping off the mark. I went on a second search for a power saw and found one. After one attempt where I shot sawdust into my eyes, I was finally successful at cutting the post to length.

I used it to prop up the counter while attempting to glue the two pieces together. I noticed that the glue was dripping from the crack onto the floor when I climbed underneath the counter to install the miter bolts. I would install one and then while working on the next one, the first one would fall out. After several attempts, I tried to prop the counter up with my knee to adjust the third bolt, and the support post fell over, hitting my cheekbone.

I was frustrated, but to my surprise, yelling, “REALLY?!” didn’t seem to help.

After a long time and a little more yelling, the bolts all stayed in place and the counter seemed to be pretty smoothly jointed. When I finally crawled out from underneath, I realized that I had lain in the dripped glue and my hair was sticky and beginning to stiffen.

I picked up the empty packaging from the glue, the bolts, and the post. I put the bits of wood downstairs in the firewood pile, and I put the saw away. Then, I washed the counter, the carpet, and my hair.

I was grateful that the glue (and my hair) needed to dry before the next steps could be taken, because I was exhausted. It will be worth it in the long run, both to be able to finally make that space functional, and to be able to show my husband my carpentry skills. (I almost made it through that last part without laughing. Skills is a definite exaggeration.)

I hope he’s as amused as I am.