I love to do things myself. I am a proud owner of a closet just for hardware. Drill, hammers, screwdrivers, lightbulbs, screws, dimmer switches, pull switches, you name it.
It may stem partly from my being a feminist and my desire to not ask a man for help around the house. I think most of it comes from my father. He raised me to be as independent and self-sufficient as possible. He taught me not to be afraid of electricity, how to change fuses and bulbs, and even gave me my first drill w/ brand new set of drillbits. He also taught me how to use a soldering iron to fix wiring problems. I loved installing my own curtains, putting together furniture, and last year finally installed a dimmer switch in my livingroom.
I love the sense of accomplishment. Most of my apartment is DIY decorated. I bought cheap frames from Ikea and stained them with a deep cherry stain. Then I bought a bunch of b&w postcards of Jazz musicians and cropped them to fit in my frames. Hung them all along the hallway in my apartment. I bought cheap mirrors and spraypainted them brick red and gold (alternately, not the same colors on each frame) and made a mod-type design out of them in my livingroom. It's totally exciting to do these little projects.
My roommate is completely the opposite. She constantly makes "Where's a big strong man when you need one?" references. She was shocked I owned a drill. Her wireless connection has been faulty lately, so until we get the cable employee to come check it out, she bought a very long cable. The router is in my bedroom, so obviously holes needed to be drilled above each of our bedroom doors.
I pulled out my trusty drill, changed bits to 3/4" and went to work. Unfortunately, I hit a snag when I realized the wall I was drilling into was brick. My roommate said "where's a strong man when you...?" and before she could complete her sentence I finally said something. "It's a brick wall, it has nothing to do with my being a female." And I pushed ahead w/ the drillbit, and after a few minutes, had the perfect hole for the ethernet cable.
I also have found that most NYC building management companies hire people who aren't great at their jobs. Because my apartment building is pre-war, the threat of lead-paint is very real. I had cracking paint on my hot water pipe in my bedroom and called the management company to have them fix it. They called the Super, the Super called the Porter and the Porter (who I love dearly but is not the best handyman) proceeded to scrape some of the cracking paint off and then put a coat of paint over just the cracking part.
The porter left all of the paint that had chipped off on the floor of my bedroom, and now the top half of the water pipe is a shiny semi-gloss white and the bottom half looks like it could use a coat. I was left to dispose of the lead paint shavings. It made me grateful I don't have young children. I definitely could have done a better job and the next time I have a problem I probably will photograph it, fix it, and charge my building management.
I spent the rest of my day sewing and knitting and doing things that, in my youth, would have made me feel like less of a feminist. I don't feel that way anymore.
I signed up for a Marketing class at Hunter College. It's called "Successfully Promoting and Marketing Any Business". I'm super stoked. It's 6 weeks long and starts in Feb.
I finally listed my fourth January item yesterday! Click it for more info:
Here's to making my quota of 20 in January!
<3 Always,
--Taina
