I am not a handyman. Any house project requiring the use of tools is headed for a DIY disaster. My building projects are few and far between. For many years I had a small wooden lamp I made in junior high school shop class with the mark of C- still visible on it. There was never an opportunity to try again which is, of course, how we learn.

I built two arbors for the back garden only because I am frugal, a more classy description than cheap, and did not want to pay the price at a garden store. The first one came out crooked with a lean sufficient to make it a tourist attraction.

“I am afraid it will fall over,” I said.

“It has character,” Mary replied, always the one to see the positive in any situation.

Upstanding character, I hope.

I do feel better about my lamp. The less the mark, the more the character, more or less.

The second arbor was a significant improvement in design. It stood square, was solidly anchored to the ground and of no visible character. Any flaws to the professional eye would be obscured by the heavy cover of clematis. I was so pleased at my luck with this single success that for a few delusional moments, I fantasized about having a small business building arbors and selling clematis.

Replacing light bulbs does not require tools and there are lots of opportunities to perfect your skill. Although it falls well within my handyman abilities, it is of rather low priority given the level of excitement it engenders.

Our bedroom has a ceiling fixture over the bed with three bulbs. They are fluorescent bulbs that are more environmentally friendly than incandescent bulbs. They also last longer, thus calling upon me much less often to perform this menial task. Over time, three bulbs became two and then finally there was just one working bulb. It shed sufficient light to avoid bumping into each other and tripping over our shoes.

“We need more light in the bedroom,” Mary said, failing to see anything positive about only one working 40 watt equivalent fluorescent light bulb likely to last for some time before total darkness descended.

“Right, I will have to go out and buy the size we need,” I replied, immediately turning my attention to other matters of greater importance, which would have been just about anything.

Sometime later, bulbs of the right size appeared on the buffet.

“I bought the bulbs you need,” Mary said in a calm voice.

“Right, I will replace those burned out bulbs,” I replied in an affirming manner, wanting to avoid a situation of creating more heat than light.

Sometime later, the bulbs appeared on the bed.

I have to replace those bulbs, I thought. I will put them on the night stand by the bed for now so that I will remember to do it later. It’s a process and I love a process. I could clearly see the positive benefits of putting it off.

One Father’s Day Eve, the light bulbs appeared on my pillow, kind of like a Father’s Day gift of chocolate, but really not. The process had been called to a halt. It was time to install the bulbs.

“Installing light bulbs” sounds so much more important and complicated than “screwing in light bulbs” and nicely glorifies my limited handyman abilities. I completed the installation without falling off the bed and hurting myself in the process.

© C O P Y R I G H T   2 0 0 9.  Gary Holdgrafer ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.