DIY Jane

I woke up early on Saturday, 14 Feb. That’s what happens when the cats are thundering around the flat, which always ends in hissing and a disgruntled meow from Duchess. I blame myself really, I’ve never taught Oscar to play gently. And now the neighbour’s cat (who’s come to stay for a while) is baring the brunt of his roughhousing. At least she’s getting a bit of action!

I pottered around and had a flash of brilliance. Time to put my new drill (asked for and received at Christmas) to good use. (New drill doesn’t mean I had an old drill, new as in, it’s still in its box and the act of drilling completely uncharted territory.)

I sat on my bed with the bits (and pieces), the drill and its instruction manual… I was hoping for a Drilling 101 but instead got the specifics on MY drill and not much else. Hmm. There’s a lot I could figure out from watching the men in my family but after reading the list of warnings as long as my arm, I was hesitant to start (and a little terrified). I ran my fingertips gently over the smooth casing and slipped the drill bits from their pouch. Hmmm, which one to choose? Size matters… right?

It didn’t escape me that here I was on Valentine’s Day without a man and in need of one. I herded the cats out of the room, plugged in the drill and prepared to fumble my way through it. I fingered the trigger and tested its speed. All it needed was a little pressure. Then I aimed and pushed, gently then harder.

I screwed the mini-coat-hook-thingy lovingly to the wall, stood back and wished I’d had the foresight to buy a spirit level. (A little too the left.) But, spirit not broken and completely satisfied I lit a cigarette and SMSed Ash (the only other chick I know with her own drill) to report on my latest conquest.

You know what they say, if you want a job done properly, do it yourself!
Happy Valentine’s Day to me, and for once, I wasn’t disappointed.