By Pat Cashman

I sneaked up to my young son’s bedroom door and peered inside. There he was, with his tiny toy toolbox, pretending to do home repairs. He was pounding away with his plastic hammer---and I remember thinking how very cute that seemed.

Then he spoke.

“Damn it!” he shouted as he purposely hit his thumb---and then continued hammering.
I barreled through the door as if to arrest him. “Where did you learn language like that, young man?”
Like I didn’t know.

If they ever start a hall of fame for lousy handymen, I’d be the Babe Ruth of the place. Fixing stuff is what men were put on this planet to do. It’s not easy to think of another reason. Yet, some men---well, this one---have no talent for it.

On the other hand, if home do-it-yourself projects didn’t exist, much of our most color language and popular one-syllable words would never have been invented.

Not that home fix-up tasks are an everyday requirement for some. It’s hard to imagine, say, Bill Gates rolling up his sleeves to fix a leaky toilet. Maybe he could manage it, but I’ve never spotted him at McClendon Hardware picking up a new ball cock or flapper valve. (Fortunately for him, few of the newer computers require ball cocks or flapper valves.)

But for some of us---well, me---the simplest home projects become rocket science. Catastrophic assembly and repair blunders are standard practice in these fumbling hands---outfitted as they are with ten thumbs.
Look at my personal---and dismal record:

I once bought a kids’ playground set at big warehouse store. The package’s simple instructions read: “Assembles in minutes with a single screwdriver.” Yet, in my actual experience: “Assembles in an entire weekend with a single screwdriver. And a hammer, wrench, router, electric drill and hacksaw---plus a torrent of cussing.”

There were also dozens of nuts and bolts left over. Maybe that’s why my wife said the
massive play set was too wobbly for our kids to use safely. The play set remains still in the
backyard as a wobbly metal art sculpture.

When I’m on the job, any electrical project, such as replacing a light fixture, starts by
first turning off the wall switch. This is to avoid the risk of shock.
Then, one walks to the main fuse box and turns off the corresponding switch there as well.
Next, ALL the other switches in the fuse box are turned off.

Then, one walks to the houses of all neighbors and turns off their power too. This is to avoid the risk of shock.

As an additional precaution, there’s a call to the power company to see if they’d mind shutting their grid down or an hour or two. “It’s to avoid the risk of shock,” I explain.
Finally, I begin the project. And get shocked.

I once replaced an electric fan in a guest bathroom a couple of years ago---but somehow
managed to put it in backwards. Now, the fan not only keeps odors from exiting, but sucks
new ones in from outdoors. Smarter birds have learned never to sit too close to that outdoor roof vent. There are no dumb ones left.

Before my wife and I were married, she dropped by my bachelor apartment and
immediately recoiled over a horrible stench that permeated the entire place. “It smells like rotting food in here!” she screamed. It turned out that the source of the rotting food smell was rotting food.
“It’s coming from the kitchen sink,” I explained. “The #@$! # garbage disposal stopped working two weeks ago.”

She calmly walked over to the sink, opened the doors beneath it, reached in and pushed
the disposal’s re-set button. The disposal immediately started to run again. “A re-set button,” I marveled. “What will they think of next?”

The woman married me out of pity.

pat@patcashman.com
Also can be seen on “the [206]” on KING 5---and on a weekly on-line show www.Peculiarpodcast.com