I decided last night that I wanted to hang up a shelf. Yes, I’m moving in less than 3 months, but dammit, I wanted to hang a shelf. I have several wall-mounting shelves just hanging around my apartment, never have been mounted.
Due to unforeseen circumstances (couldn’t find the right drill bit, didn’t have screws, it was way too late to be drilling on a wall I share with my neighbors), I didn’t get it finished until just a few minutes ago. And now I want to hang all of them. This is why I don’t fire up the old power tools very often.
If it were up to me, I’d seriously have a workshop somewhere, so I could build things. Lots of things. But probably things that didn’t require a lot of sanding or any use of a router (the wood kind, not the internet-involved kind), mainly because I don’t have the patience for that kind of shit. I just like to bang and cut. And clearly drill, since that’s all I can think about doing today.
In 8th grade, I took Industrial Arts 2, which isn’t something girls take. It just another girl and I among a sea of 24 boys. Keep in mind these were 14 year old boys, which meant they’d much rather take us out back behind the PE equipment shed and touch our boobies than watch us make ice scrapers, metal tool boxes, and wooden clocks (mine was shaped like a backboard, complete with a nerf hoop, thank you very much).
I should have taken industrial arts in high school. I couldn’t, though, because it interfered with marching band. And the marching band teacher was way too hot. (I want to link to his current website, showing his amazing realty skills in Arizona, but that would be wrong. Also, I’m not sure why we all thought he was that hot.)
Okay, I need to go mount some things.
To my wall, dirty.